


Split

by pocketwatchangora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Actions Might Not Be His Own?, Bottom Draco, Catharsis, Drinking, Drunk Kissing, Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Voyeurism, Hardcore, Harry rapes Draco, Harry's Mind is an Issue, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humiliation, Imprisonment, Letting It All Out, Light At the End Of the Tunnel, M/M, Non-Canon Sixth Year, Occlumency, Occlumency lessons, Partying, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Torture, Top Harry, Underage Drinking, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), mentions of past rape/non-con, more tags soon, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-12-11 01:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketwatchangora/pseuds/pocketwatchangora
Summary: Harry's rage has become far worse than he's ever experienced, so bad it doesn't even feel like his own. Impulse and anger is not a good combination...and one blond Malfoy is there to bare the full brunt of his confusing wrath. Reader discretion advised.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry decided not to go to dinner, wanting to be alone for a little while. His head was aching and he didn’t think he could cope with the noise of the Great Hall. He walked vaguely towards the Common Room, though wasn’t really intending to end up anywhere. He enjoyed the empty corridors, no grating voices or laughter or footsteps other than his own… Wait, not only his own. Another set, ahead of him. He sighed, irritated and hoping it wasn’t Filch. He’d been feeling so angry lately, frustrated and tense, all he wanted was 5 fucking minutes to himself. 

Then none other than Draco Malfoy stepped around the corner just ahead, not 10 feet away. Instantly, a wave of hatred washed over Harry, making his skin hot and jaw tight, stopping in his tracks. He would have shouted at Draco, just for someone to take his rage out on, and who better, but Malfoy spotted him first. He turned to face Harry, smirking. 

“Well, Potter, wandering the corridors during dinner? Tired of all your adoring public?” he sneered, his prefect badge shining on his black robes

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry demanded. 

“My duty, Potter. Honestly, you really are stupid.” He said. His insults were barely there, but Harry was too angry to care, incensed just by Malfoy’s arrogant smirk and nonchalant stance. 

“Right, Malfoy.” Harry growled, advancing on him. Malfoy looked shocked for a split second, then turned his head, searching for Crabbe or Goyle but, remembering he was alone, returned his wide grey eyes to Harry. The Potter grabbed the front of his robes and shoved his back into the stone wall, hard, making him gasp as the air was knocked from his lungs. He looked at Harry in confusion, seeing the rage in his green eyes. 

“Potter-” Harry punched him in the stomach, cutting him off before he could insult him yet again. He grabbed Draco’s wand from the folds of his robes, shoving it into his own pocket so he couldn’t attack back. 

“Shut up. I’m so fucking sick of you.” Harry growled. Still holding Draco against the wall, he looked around. The corridor was empty, everyone was at dinner in the Great Hall, but someone might be around. He thought for a moment, and remembered the boys’ bathroom around the corner. He didn’t know why but he wanted to be completely alone with Malfoy…

He looked at Draco, who looked a little dazed, and pulled him by his robes away from the wall and marched him down the corridor. A moment later, regaining his senses, Draco struggled against his grip. 

“Let me go, Potter!” he shouted, kicking him. His foot found Harry’s kneecap, making him cry out and stumble. Draco wriggled from his distracted grip, and started darting away, but Harry had his wand in his hand before he got four paces away, his blood on fire with sudden coursing rage. 

“Crucio.” He hissed, an impulse he’d never felt before taking over, the unknown wrath consuming him. Draco screamed, staggering another few steps before collapsing, curling in on himself on the stone floor, convulsing horribly. Harry stopped the spell as soon as he realised what he’d done, his own heart pounding and his stomach churning as Draco twitched and sobbed on the floor. How could he have done that?! Harry thought, disgusted with himself. 

He put his wand away, and approached the Malfoy boy, who was trying to get up, away. He was panting harshly, his body trembling too badly for his arms and legs to support him. He collapsed again, making a small whimpering sound as Harry got closer. Harry stood over him for a moment, before kneeling beside him. He pushed Draco onto his back, pinning his wrists to the floor. Draco’s face was paler than usual, the blood completely drained away, and he looked terrified. There were tears in his eyes, weakly trying to get his arms out of Harry’s grip. Harry remembered when Bellatrix Lestrange had used the Cruciatus curse on him, how he’d felt like all his strength was gone, how helpless he’d felt, and the agony. 

“L-let go of me…! You…you just...-?” Draco panted, his voice shaky and small. Harry stared at him, his own hands shaking, and blood rushing loudly in his ears. He felt something strange stirring in his chest though, a horrifying pleasure he’d never felt before.

“I…I’m sorry..! Oh my God- I never meant to…I didn’t mean to-” he stopped, hearing faint but approaching footsteps. He didn’t want anyone to know he’d hurt Malfoy this badly, it was practically unprovoked, and the punishment definitely didn’t fit the crime. 

He grabbed Malfoy, picking him up. He was lighter than he’d expected, but his constant, albeit weak, struggles against Harry made him difficult to manoeuvre. He half carried, half dragged Draco to the boys’ bathroom, which were, thankfully, empty. He closed the door, then took Draco into a cubicle and locked it, sitting down on the toilet seat with Draco practically on his lap, his hand over Draco’s mouth. He listened intently, worried whoever it was would come into the toilets. They stayed there, both panting, Harry waiting. After enough time had passed and he was sure they were gone, he stood up and shoved Draco into the wall again. 

What little colour he usually had was back in his pale face, and his eyes were clearing of the cloudiness caused by such extreme pain. He looked back at Harry, clearly exhausted and afraid. He’d never suspected Potter capable of such anger, now he was scared. Harry felt a pang in his chest. He liked that. The fear in Draco’s eyes as he watched him, like a trapped animal watches its hunter, waiting for a strike, helpless. He didn’t have his wand, and Harry outweighed him easily now, though Draco was slightly taller. He’d never noticed how skinny Malfoy was, scrawny and weak. 

He felt another wave of rage, looking at how pathetic Draco was, but he also felt something else. His trousers were suddenly tight, and he was staring at the vulnerable, soft skin of Draco’s neck, thinking how delicious it looked. He dragged his eyes back up to the pale face, and found Draco was staring at him too, with a mixture of fear and utter confusion. 

“P-Potter..-” Harry slammed him into the wall again, his anger spiking at his voice. 

“I told you to shut up!” Harry bellowed, making Draco flinch. Harry pulled out his wand and whipped it in a circle above them. “Muffliato.” He hissed, and all other noise around them stopped – the dripping of the taps, the creaking of the old pipes. It was silent except their own breathing, their own hearts beating fast and loud in their own ears, and no one else could hear them. Draco looked profoundly terrified now, and he tried wriggling again but Harry put the tip of his wand to his throat and he froze. “Don’t even think about it. You know you can’t escape.” He hissed. 

Draco stared at him, horror struck, then around like he wa trying to find an escape route. Slowly, he realised he was trapped, and seemed to shrink, his eyes going down as he pressed himself into the wall, even slumping slightly, defeated. It felt like a monster, something evil, stirring in his chest, waking up. 

He noticed the pale skin of the other boy’s neck again, and pressed his lips against it. It was soft and cold, trembling. The thing inside Harry roared in pleasure, begging him for more, its hunger growing. He felt Draco go tense again, and he opened his mouth against his throat, licking it, tasting it. He brushed his teeth against it, then nibbled, then bit, hard. 

Draco let out a strangled yelp, summoning enough strength to push Harry away. Harry, not expecting this, flew back into the other wall, tripping over his own robes. He looked up at Draco, who had one hand on his already bruising neck, and one hand reaching for the cubicle’s lock. Harry quickly pointed his wand at the door and said “Colloportus,” Draco’s hand snapping away from it skittishly. 

Then Harry stood up, breathing hard, and slapped Draco hard across the face with the back of his hand. Draco fell into the newly locked door and didn’t have time to stand up properly before Harry was on him again, spinning him round and pressing his face into the cold metal wall. “How fucking dare you.” Harry snarled into his ear, feeling him tense with fear. 

“H-Harry…please, let me go…” he begged softly, his voice shaking. He’d never heard Draco say his first name on its own before, only his full or last name in that sneering, mocking voice he was so fond of. 

“Be quiet, you bitch.” He snarled, feeling another overwhelming wave of rage. He grabbed a handful of Draco’s soft white-blond hair and pulled his head back, pushing his other hand against his mouth. His could feel the heat of Draco’s mouth against his fingers, and his monster wanted to feel it more. 

Tightening his other hand on his hair, Harry slowly parted Draco’s lips with his thumb, then his teeth, and his fingers were feeling his hot, wet tongue, the cushiony flesh of his cheeks and the hardness of his teeth. Draco made a startled, questioning sound, trying to turn his head to get the fingers out but Harry only pushed them deeper – not far enough to make him gag but enough for him to moan in discomfort, helplessly using his tongue in an effort to push them away, or block them from going further, too afraid of pain to bite down.

Harry liked the feeling. His trousers felt tight again, and his Monster had an idea. He pulled the fingers out Draco’s mouth, wiping his saliva on Draco’s robes, which he then pulled off him in one fluid motion, before turning him around again forcefully. Draco looked at him, hatred and fear in his eyes, his lips moist and pink. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked, an air of his usual arrogance in his voice as he glared at Harry, apparently he’d had enough of this humiliation. Harry grinned, or at least his Monster did. 

“Get down on your knees.” It ordered in Harry’s voice. It looked at Draco in satisfaction. He looked dishevelled and exhausted, his shirt and hair askew and his eyes tearful despite his best efforts. Draco seemed to understand what Harry’s Monster wanted from him, and pressed himself into the cubicle wall, shaking his head. 

“No…never. Potter, you let me out of here right no-”

“Silencio.” Harry said with the flick of his wand. Draco kept saying the words, his lips moving but no sound coming out. He looked horrified, then tried again, his lips forming words, but he still couldn’t make a sound. Then Harry’s Monster grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him close, Harry’s own mouth whispering “Get on your knees.” In a harsh tone that made Draco seem to shrink and he obeyed, looking exceptionally beaten. The grey eyes stayed on the floor, his head down and to the side as if he were attempting to ignore his captor. 

The Monster found the buckle on Harry’s belt, and began to undo it. As soon as he heard the clink of metal and rustle of fabric, Draco looked up, and was horrified to see Harry Potter’s erect cock standing proudly from his school trousers in front of his face. The Monster grabbed the blond’s hair again and tugged it hard until he moved forward and up, positioning him perfectly for what it wanted. 

Draco was crying silently, his pale eyes looking anywhere but at what was in front of him, like if he ignored it, it would go away. 

“Go on then.” Harry’s voice said cruelly, gripping the white hair tightly, but Draco ignored him besides a small wince. “Don’t make me Imperious you.” Harry warned. “I’ll have you begging Snape to fuck you in the middle of Potions.” Draco looked up at him, steely eyes wide with rage and fear. He knew he’d do it, the Monster he saw as Harry had already used the Cruciatus curse on him. His eyes stared up at him angrily, then darted to his wand, and he took a deep breath. 

Harry and his Monster watched together as Draco Malfoy shifted closer on his knees, white hair ruffled and tears rolling from his storming eyes, and slowly reached up to take Harry’s cock in his hand. Harry’s head felt clouded, like he was sleeping walking. He had a vague sense that he couldn’t control his own body, his own thoughts, like he was dreaming. But he felt Draco touch him.

Harry let out a soft hiss at the contact, Draco’s hand was cold against his hot, hard cock. Draco stared at it in fear. 

Virgin. The Monster hissed excitedly, and Harry felt himself nodding as he slid his fingers through the blond hair and tightening them around it, tugging him closer. Draco winced and obeyed, shuffling closer still across the damp bathroom floor. 

“Open your mouth.” Harry’s voice said. He didn’t even recognise his own words anymore, they were the Monster’s now. Draco looked at him again, eyes wide and begging silently. Harry’s hand gave another tug on his hair, and Draco looked down again, biting his lip. 

The Malfoy boy knelt up slowly, one hand hesitantly gripping the base of Harry’s erection while the other moved to rest on Harry’s bare thigh, his trousers having fallen down past his knees. He gave the erection a hesitant stroke, then another, before finally opening his mouth slowly. Harry grinned, tugging his hair more so his head would jerk forward, the Monster wanting to feel the warm lips. 

Draco’s mouth made contact the head, a bead of precum sticking to his bottom lip when he instinctively moved away from it. Another harsh tug of hair stopped him, bringing him right back and forcing him to take more of the salty flesh into his mouth. Harry moaned along with his Monster, being a virgin himself, he’d never felt the heat of someone else on his cock. It felt good. He didn’t need the Monster to encourage Draco to use his tongue, knowing that would feel better. The grey eyes flicked up to his face, then back down, and he obeyed. 

Harry watched him move away, and a small, shiny pink tongue slip out. Hesitantly, with fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, Draco licked his tongue over Harry’s slit. He tried to jerk away, disgusted, but the Monster held him still and close, pulling him closer. 

“Put it in your mouth.” The Monster snarled, and Draco’s eyes closed as he obeyed, his thin pale eyebrows trembling in a frown as he let the hot stiffness into his mouth. Harry’s hips moved forward, the Monster holding Draco’s head still. Draco’s eyes widened in alarm, trying to push himself away from the intrusion. “Suck.” Harry stared down at him, watching him begin to suck, his eyes squeezed shut. Harry let out a shuddering moan as he felt the hot wetness around his cock, velvety tongue tentatively making contact with the underside. Draco let out a small, voiceless sob when the Monster pushed Harry further into his mouth, his hand opened and desperately trying to remove the hot, thick organ before it went down his throat. 

The Monster purred at the distress in Malfoy’s face. It made Harry rock his hips, hand gripping the soft blond hair tighter so he couldn’t escape as the cock slid, in and out, between his lips. It was a wonderful sight, but not enough for Harry, or his Monster. The heat and wetness around him had sparked a need he’d only ever sated himself. Now he needed much, much more, and he knew his Monster did as well. 

He pushed in all the way, his wand releasing the Silence Spell on Draco without Harry’s knowledge. Draco let out a muffled scream as the cock went down his throat, cutting off his air and making him choke, sending exquisite vibrations along the cock in his mouth. His fingernails dug into Harry’s thighs, struggling against the grip on his hair in vain. Harry moaned, staying there for a good few moments before pulling out completely. He released Draco’s hair and he collapsed, gasping for air and coughing desperately. 

Harry chuckled the Monster’s chuckle, another heated wave of rage and lust filling him, his cock bobbing excitedly at Draco’s sobs. He grabbed the scruff of Draco’s neck, dragging him up and slamming him back into the cubicle wall, the metal rattling around them with the force. Harry ripped open Draco’s white shirt, revealing his chest, just as white, very slender and toned from Quidditch, with pale little nipples. Harry’s hand moved over his chest, feeling the ribs, slow but not tender. Still panting and coughing, Draco looked at him with utter terror in his eyes. 

“Harry…please…” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the spell and intrusion, his pale face tear-stained and pink with emotion. 

Harry watched himself smack Draco hard across the face, then turn him around and shove his face into the wall with one hand. Reaching around Malfoy’s narrow waist with his other, he found the boy’s belt buckle and undid it slowly. He felt Draco gasp and try to struggle, pushing away from the wall. 

“Stop trying to fight me.” The Monster hissed, Harry’s voice high and chilling even to his own ears. Draco stopped at once, his whole body freezing, rigid with fear. Harry’s hand unbuckled Draco’s belt and undid his trousers, pushing them down along with his pants. The blond boy choked back a sob when he felt his shirt pushed up his back and the hot hardness press itself between his cheeks, his shoulders so tense they were shaking. 

“Harry...don’t…-” he tried to beg again but the Monster grabbed his neck from behind, Harry’s fingers bruising the slender throat. “Please…!” Draco begged, but the Monster just laughed in Harry’s head. It moved Harry’s cock down to nestle between Draco’s thin thighs, rocking his hips again slowly, building up the sensation for himself. He could feel the heaviness of Draco’s balls as he pressed up against them, the warmth they held feeling wonderful. 

“Lubrico.” The Monster hissed, pressing the tip of Harry’s wand into Draco’s tiny pale pink hole. Draco gasped as cold liquid spurted inside him, a completely foreign sensation, letting out a tiny whimper as the wand pushed further inside him. The hand around the back of his neck let go, and returned on his arse cheek, spreading it away for a better look at his hole. Then Harry dropped the wand into his pocket, and the Monster plunged two of his fingers inside the virgin hole instead, all the way to the last knuckle, and revelling in the muffled sob Draco let out as he bit down on his own arm. “No need to keep your voice in…” the Monster whispered, toying with Draco’s insides with Harry’s hand. 

Harry watched them moving slickly in and out of Draco’s hole, marvelling distantly at the tightness and heat. It didn’t seem real, it was like a dream…a nightmare… It reminded him vaguely of Nagini attacking Mr Weasley…how Harry had felt her rage, watched the strikes through her eyes, but he was distanced from it all… He tried to stop his hand moving, concentrating with all his might, but nothing happened, like he was completely paralysed, fighting against a barrier he couldn’t see, only feeling it’s strong, cruel presence. Yet someone was using his body, moving his fingers, his hand, without his permission. 

“No one knows we’re here, not even if they were pissing right next door…” the Monster said, disturbing the settling fog on Harry’s mind, watching his own hand patting the cubicle wall beside Draco’s head. “No one can hear you.”

Draco let out a sob at that, louder than before, true anguish in his voice. The Monster drank it in like water, eager for more, like it was dying of thirst. Harry was just beginning to enjoy fingering Malfoy, feeling like he was watching porn rather than participating, when the Monster decided to pull the fingers out. Draco’s legs were trembling, his fingers splayed out on the wall to keep himself upright. His shirt had fallen off one bony shoulder and his hair was a mess, looking deliciously interfered with. 

The Monster wrapped Harry’s hands around the pointy hips and pulled them up to the right height for Harry, the blond’s long legs would have made it easier were they not so weak. Keeping him steady with one hand, the Monster gripped Harry’s cock rather too tightly and nudged it into Draco’s moistened hole. 

Harry watched as the head of his own erect cock pressed into Malfoy’s arse, slowly disappearing. It was instantly too tight, Malfoy letting out another, louder moan of pain as his unwilling body was forcefully penetrated. Harry let out a shuddering gasp as he was enveloped in the impossibly tight, impossibly hot passage. The Monster felt his pleasure as well, gripping Draco’s hips in a bruising vice, and slammed Harry completely inside his protesting body. 

This time, Draco screamed. His fingers scrabbled fruitlessly against the smooth cubicle wall, crying out for Harry to stop, begging him. The Monster thrashed gleefully inside Harry as he pulled out, revealing his slightly bloodied cock. Harry watched what he could see of Draco’s bony back shiver and tense as his insides were ripped apart, his head bowed low as he sobbed, the Monster beginning to fuck him with a strength Harry, himself, did not have. Draco collapsed at some point, unable to hold himself up on quaking legs. Harry watched him as he fell against the wall, but the Monster simply held him up as it continued the use Harry’s body to rape Draco Malfoy. Harry vaguely registered how utterly disgusted he was with himself, how much he hated what he was doing to Draco. The Malfoy looked so fragile like this, so thin and in pain… But he couldn’t stop. The Monster had full control now. 

He barely felt himself climax, a slight clouding of his vision and sense of physical relief as the Monster pressed him balls deep inside Draco, pumping him full of Harry’s seed, laughing in Harry’s head. Harry watched himself slip wetly out of Draco, letting go of him. The blond fell to the bathroom floor, thick pink-tinted liquid oozing from his ravaged hole, letting out shuddering breaths. The Monster gave one last satisfied look down at what it had accomplished and went back to sleep, leaving Harry staring down at Draco, utter horror gripping his heart. 

“Dr…Draco…?” Harry gasped, watching the blood and come pooling horrifically on the ground beneath him. Draco’s hands were still against the wall, his head down, his knees having buckled and brought him to an almost prayer-like position. 

“Get away from me.” Draco hissed after a moment of deafening silence between them. Harry didn’t move, unable to understand what he was saying, what had happened. He had watched it all, watched himself do this through a frosted window, but yet he had no idea how. Harry reached out a shaking hand to touch Draco’s shoulder, but as soon as their skin touched, Draco flinched like he’d been burned and turned to look at him with the most hateful expression Harry had ever seen. 

The look bore so much loathing and pain that Harry stumbled backwards. Tears were rolling down Draco’s cheeks, and there was blood on his lips where he’d bitten into his own flesh. “GET OUT!” he shouted, his voice thick with hatred and pain, his breath coming out in shuddering pants, like he’d half forgotten how the breathe. Harry rushed to release all of his spells, unlocking the door and returning sound to the world. The sound of people walking past on their way to their dorms, people laughing and talking to their friends. 

Harry heard Draco let out an awful sob, his whole body shaking so violently it looked like he was having a fit, slowly pulling his rumpled shirt to cover himself. Harry wanted to cry. 

“Draco…I’m sorry..! I’m so, so sorry! It w-wasn’t me… S-something was in my head, made me do those things…” his voice shaking with grief. “Please…l-let me help you… I’ll take you to the Hospital W-”

“Are you going to explain what you did?” Draco spat at him, his grey eyes cold as steel. “Explain that you did this to me…?” his voice cracked, turning away slowly. He took a deep breath and attempted to stand up, leaning fully into the cubicle door as he hauled his broken body upright. Harry watched with renewed horror at just how badly he’d hurt Malfoy: the thin trembling legs, the dark bruises shaped like Harry’s own hands on his jutting hips and slender throat and around his eye, the agony on Draco’s face as he tried to swallow it down with a tightened jaw and clenched fists. Ignoring Harry’s lingering presence, he tried to push himself off the wall, as if assessing his own strength, and almost immediately buckled. Harry leapt to catch him, but the flinch and look of terror in Malfoy’s face that his touch elicited was enough to make him want to never touch Malfoy again. 

“Malfoy, I-”

“Give me my fucking wand.” he said, his voice low and deadly. He was leaning against the wall again, looking like he might slide back down to the floor. Harry did so immediately, handing over Draco’s wand, which he snatched in a shaking hand. “Never…come near me again…” he said, his face half hidden as he rested his head against the wall, tears dripping onto floor. Harry, defeated and ashamed, just nodded, and left the bathroom, Draco’s sobs following him all the way upstairs even after the door closed, ringing in his ears like a tolling bell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: very hard-core and graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, sexual torture, violence, dark spells, humiliation, non-con exhibitionism, imprisonment etc. Discretion advised!

He wasn’t sure how he got into the Common Room. He didn’t remember walking there, he didn’t remember giving the password, or climbing into the warm room he loved so much. Now Hermione and Ron were in front of him, covered in white powder, just like everyone else in the room. 

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, stunned for a moment. Had he actually gone insane? A part of him hoped so, maybe he’d imagined hurting Draco.

“Harry! Where have you been? You missed dinner – one of the first years accidentally stepped on Mrs Norris’ tail as her and Filch were going up to the teachers’ tables. The stupid cat freaked out and went crazy, and the first year accidentally sent a hex into the ceiling that made it snow some kind of icing sugar all over everyone!” Ron recounted with a laugh, brushing the powdery white residue off his robes. There was some in Hermione’s bushy hair too, which she kept trying to shake out by only ended up choking on the dusty cloud it produced. 

“Yeah…ok…” Harry mumbled distantly, heading for the boys’ dormitories. He knew he could think in there. 

“Harry? Are you alright? You’re really pale…” Hermione was saying but he just waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder, and went up the stairs. He hardly even registered he was casting a Muffliato spell as he went. 

He sat down on his quilt, slowly picking up the blanket that Mrs Weasley had knitted him for his last birthday. He looked down at the bright squares of wool, feeling the soft strings between his fingers. And then he was sobbing, loud and despairing, as the reality of what had happened dawned on him. 

He’d raped Malfoy. Raped him. And left him bleeding in a bathroom stall, and sobbing, just as Harry was now, in his nice, warm room. How could he have done that? Such a thing was…evil. Truly, truly evil. And yet he’d done it, and barely felt a thing as he had. The Monster…maybe it had always been inside him, but it had only just woken up. What if it woke up again? What if he hurt Ron or Hermione or Ginny next? 

“Fuck!” he growled, plunging his fingers into his hair and pulling until it hurt. “What is wrong with me…?”

*

He didn’t see Draco Malfoy for two days after that, though this wasn’t unusual for the weekend. Then, when he finally reappeared at the breakfast table on Monday morning, he looked remarkably like a doll; soulless, his eyes completely void of emotion. He was speaking to his friends, his mouth smiling when theirs did, and nodding dutifully when Pansy or Blaise spoke to him, but he hardly seemed to be listening. Harry watched him through the small pace between Ron and Neville, unable to take his eyes from his pale, porcelain face and eyes made of glass. Draco never looked back at him, even if he did feel Harry’s gaze, he never acknowledged it. 

He’d probably rather die than look at me ever again, after what I did…

Ron and Hermione had questioned him mercilessly about the day he came back, practically in a fugue state as he wandered dazedly through the Common Room, but he’d lied and said he’d fallen asleep in the library after Snape’s Occlumency lesson, so he’d felt weird when he woke up. Luckily, Hermione did some research over the weekend, looking into the psychological side effects of Occlumency and, found it can cause confusion and unusual sleeping patterns, so his lie was questioned no further. 

Life carried on as always, though Harry made a very deliberate effort to stay as far away from Malfoy as humanly possible. In their lessons together, Harry forced himself not to look at the blond, desperately keeping himself in his own reality. He tried laughing more, not letting too many negative thoughts into his mind, terrified of waking the Monster up again. He thought he felt his chest flutter whenever he accidentally glimpsed Malfoy – quick, like a snake’s tongue darting out to scent the air – but he tried to ignore it. 

*

A few weeks passed, and it seemed what had happened in that bathroom was a one-time thing, a horrible blip in both their lives. Then came the first Saturday in December, when there was a Hogsmeade trip. 

“Harry, we’re heading back to the castle. The snow’s getting worse.” Hermione called from across the shop. He turned and nodded. He bought the beautiful little brass sculpture that turned and played a very pretty lullaby-like song, vaguely planning to give it to Fleur for Christmas, and they left, thanking the shopkeeper as they went. The snow was heavier now, the wind picking up as well, and they bundled themselves up for the walk back. They were just heading out of Hogsmeade, the walled road stretching out whitely before them, when Harry spotted a gold and black shape moving past out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Draco Malfoy walking further into the village, alone, his white hair shining like a Golden Snitch. The surging need to catch it filling him, his Monster waking up instantly. 

“Oh, shit, I…I forgot to buy socks – I’ll meet you back in the Common Room.” Harry said hastily, unable to stop himself wanting to follow Draco. The others nodded vaguely, saying goodbye as they trudged through the slowly building snowfall. Harry headed back towards the shops, his eyes trained on the Malfoy boy’s retreating form. He went into the Three Broomsticks, and Harry ducked into an alleyway to put his invisibility cloak on. He walked close to the buildings so his footsteps weren’t visible in the settling snow, and waited outside the pub until the door opened, a few students coming out, to slip inside. 

The pub was warm and fairly crowded with students, teachers and villagers alike. Harry felt himself skulk between tables and people, his Seeker eyes searching for the white blond hair of the Monster’s target, his Golden Snitch. 

He located him eventually, sitting at a table near the bar with Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry felt the rage of his Monster, a bubbling anger in his chest when it realised Draco wouldn’t be alone without some work. Harry sat down at the bar near their table, hopefully out of the way so no one would sit on him. 

Draco and his friends seemed to be having a nice time together, Blaise apparently telling a funny story that made the others laugh. Harry, and his Monster, watched Draco like a hawk, noticing every expression, every movement. He seemed to be acting quite as usual, laughing with the others and adding to the conversation. He was sitting between Pansy and Goyle, all of them drinking some kind of dark blue cocktail from the pitcher in the middle of the table. They were all dressed in their recreation clothes, like everyone else, Draco wearing a dark green jumper and black coat, trousers and shoes. 

Crabbe got up to go to the bar, ordering another pitcher of the cocktail. Harry wondered if they planned to get drunk, since it was a Friday. The Monster, however, saw an opportunity and forced Harry to get his wand out. Crabbe was right beside him, it was perfect. 

“Imperio…” Harry’s voice whispered, almost inaudible to himself, and Crabbe seemed to freeze, then relax. 

“What was that, dear?” Madam Rosmerta asked Crabbe. The Monster obviously understood the Imperius Curse much better than Harry because it made Crabbe say his order again and she nodded, going off to fill the pitcher, none the wiser. When she brought it to him, the Monster made him pay, and return to his seat like nothing had happened. Harry was confused, feeling himself being pushed back in his own mind as the Monster settled into his skin, eyes staring fixedly at Draco Malfoy. 

Once this pitcher was empty, and the group of Slytherins were a little drunk, the Monster began to put its plan into action. 

“Draco,” Crabbe said in the Monster’s words “can you help me pick a present for my mum? It’s her birthday tomorrow and I dunno what to buy.” Draco frowned at him, while Pansy looked livid. 

“Why are you asking him? I’m a woman, Crabbe, I’d be a much better person to ask.” 

“Shut up, Pansy.” Crabbe said, the Monster irritated by her voice. “Draco knows more about nice stuff.” Pansy scoffed, but when Draco didn’t object the Monster got excited. “I wanna get something today, so I can send it.” Crabbe said, standing up. Draco glared at him.

“Now?” he asked, obviously displeased. 

“Yeah, before the shops shut. We’ll see you at dinner.” Crabbe said. Everyone looked surprised by his sudden decisiveness, but they all seemed too tipsy to care. Draco sighed as he pulled on his coat, and Goyle moved for him to get out. 

“I’ll come with you.” Pansy said, standing too. The Monster hissed in impatience at her. 

“No, it’s ok.” Crabbe said, putting a large hand on Draco’s shoulder to usher him out of the pub. Pansy looked annoyed, but sat back down, drinking her beverage. Blaise and Goyle looked confused, but the Monster didn’t care as it made Harry get up and follow their victims. 

“Pansy probably knows what to get your mother more than I do…” Draco was saying, clearly a bit put out at being forced back into the cold, pulling on his gloves. 

“She’d pick something tacky.” Crabbe said. Draco let out a small laugh. 

“You’re probably right… Well, we can try Gladrags or Scrivenshaft’s…or the music shop?” Draco suggested as they walked towards the shops, away from the more populated areas. The village streets were deserted, thanks to the snow and rising wind. Harry followed, stepping in Crabbe’s footprints to hide his own. He couldn’t feel the cold at all, even as Draco’s teeth chattered and he wrapped his coat around himself tightly. The Monster seemed bored of the charade, its hunger burning in Harry’s skin. 

“I just wanted to get you alone.” Crabbe said. Draco looked up at him, a flash of fear in his eyes but he seemed to suppress it, quirking a slender eyebrow. 

“Really? Um…what for?” he asked slowly. 

“I need to talk to you…somewhere quiet. I don’t…want anyone else around.” He said. Another flash of fear, and Draco seemed to be instantly wary of his friend, stopping in his tracks. 

“I’m…I’m going back inside, it’s too cold out he-” The Monster jabbed Harry’s wand out and made Crabbe seize Draco’s arms before he could turn away. Draco let out a yell of shock but Crabbe’s ham of a hand covered his mouth, dragging him into a small stone shelter nearby. Draco struggled and tried to scream, but the wind had picked up and took the sound before it got anywhere, and Crabbe was obviously far too strong for him. Harry followed them quickly, his Monster writhing excitedly. 

Crabbe had Draco pinned to the wall, his hands completely swamping his chest, the blond boy clearly panicking. It was all too familiar, all too terrifying, and this time it was his friend. 

“Crabbe…l-let go of me, please… Why are you doing this..?” he implored, still desperately trying to escape. Harry heard his own voice laugh. Draco froze instantly, his hollow cheeks, pale pink from the cold, draining of colour as he searched for the source. Harry moved forward, his hand reaching out to touch Draco’s neck through the cloak, making him flinch, barely suppressing a stifled scream. “W-who’s there...?!” Draco demanded, his voice shaking terribly. He fumbled for his wand, but the Monster made Crabbe grab his wrist, twisting it until he cried out and dropped his only means of attack or defence. It then made Crabbe pick up Draco’s wand, slip it into his own pocket, and sit down on the hard bench in the shelter. 

“Finite Incantatem.” The Monster hissed, aiming Harry’s wand at Crabbe, whose eyes cleared of the slight mist the Imperius Curse had caused, and he looked around, confused. He looked at Draco and frowned, about to ask what was wrong, or perhaps where they were, when the Monster said “Immobulus.” And the large boy went completely still, his eyes wide and staring, the pinkness in his cheeks and nose from the cold draining completely. Draco stared back at him, panting with fear, tears in his eyes. 

“No…no…please, let us go…!” Draco begged the otherwise empty shelter, looking around for any trace of their attacker. The Monster chuckled inside Harry, eager to hurt Malfoy again. “Potter, if it’s you again, I’m begging you-” Harry’s hand darted out, covering Malfoy’s mouth when he heard distant voices outside. The shelter was good cover, the occupants only visible if someone were to walk in. Their bodies were pressed up close, Harry felt himself getting hard, a strange pleasure building in his groin despite hating what his body was being forced to do. Draco let out something akin to whimper when Harry’s body shifted against his own, clearly feeling the hardness against his hip, the pressure from something unseen, hearing the disembodied angry, excited breathing. 

Harry watched Draco’s wide grey eyes trying to look over at Crabbe, like he was begging him to help him. Harry knew, if the spell on Crabbe broke at any moment, he would leap to Draco’s aid, probably kill Harry if he managed to get his huge hands on him…especially after he saw what the Monster had planned. 

“He can’t help you, Draco… No one can.” Harry’s voice hissed, making Draco jump and his eyes once again search for his invisible attacker. His hand slowly moved away from Draco’s mouth once the passers-by were gone, tears now falling down his cheeks, his eyes angry.

“Show yourself, you fucking coward.” He snarled, his voice filled with venom.

“Now, now, Draco…we mustn’t talk to our superiors like that.” Draco looked even angrier, the Malfoy instinct telling him to deny being inferior to anyone, when the Monster grabbed a handful of his blond hair and threw him to the floor with such force that he ended up at Crabbe’s feet. Draco scrambled to right himself, using the bench and Crabbe himself to get up, but Harry swooped down on him, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him to his feet in front of Crabbe, whom he could see was fully conscious and watching through his paralysis. His eyes couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, but it was clear he could see it all, unable to stop himself. The Monster thrashed excitedly, stretching its muscles, preparing, like it were about to go for a jog. It was really going to enjoy this. 

Still with one hand around Draco’s throat, squeezing just enough to restrict his breathing a little bit, the Monster pushed Draco into the wall directly in front of the larger boy, so Crabbe got a good view of his friend while the invisible Monster violated him. This time, the Monster went straight for Draco’s front rather than his back, undoing his trousers and gripping his flaccid member in Harry’s tight grip through the cloak, stroking it almost sensuously. Draco let out a sob, turning his face away from Crabbe, his cheek pressed against the cold stone wall. He was shivering, either from cold or fear or whatever, he didn’t know, the heat from the phantom’s hand on his cock was almost unbearable, the cloak feeling almost liquid-like against the sensitive flesh. 

The Monster laughed when it realised Draco was starting to harden under Harry’s hand, gripping him tighter until he groaned in pain, begging his assailant to stop, to leave him alone. 

“I’m sure we can help you enjoy yourself, Draco… You just need some encouragement, that’s all…” the Monster’s high voice was speaking through Harry’s lips as if it were a reassuring teacher, a mockery of concern and kindness. He leaned close to Draco, his breath whispering against his ear and the side of his neck, making him gasp and shiver. He didn’t want to feel pleasure, he wanted it to hurt and feel worse than before…to feel good meant something far worse than just being raped, Draco thought, this was his pride, as well as his body, being violated. 

Harry glanced over at Crabbe, amused by his wide, frozen stare as his friend was assaulted by less than a ghost. 

The Monster seemed to have an exciting idea because it made Harry grab Draco by the hair and push him over to his friend. They stood before Crabbe, Draco’s half erect cock hanging indecently from his trousers right in front of his friend, his pink and crying face clearly visible to the paralysed boy. Harry stroked Draco’s cock some more, making it flop and dance in front of him, trying to get it hard enough to leak a little, maybe even make a game of getting Crabbe in the face. 

Then the Monster grabbed Draco’s shoulders and pushed them forward, gripping his cock hard so he bent at the waist over Crabbe with a gasp. Draco’s hands found his friend’s shoulders, which he gripped as he let out a sob, begging Harry not to do this. The Monster pulled Draco’s trousers down fully, exposing the arse it had enjoyed so much last time, and drew Harry’s wand to cast the Lubrico charm. Draco jumped as the cold liquid spurted inside him, his head dropping in front of Crabbe’s face. Crabbe’s eyes were clearly watching, clearly utterly horrified and confused, the Monster loved it. It pulled the cloak up to reveal Harry’s own hard cock, making sure Crabbe got a good look at it before shoving it all the way inside Draco. 

The Malfoy boy choked on a scream, wrapping his arms around Crabbe’s thick neck as he was pushed, bodily, against his friend with the force of Harry’s thrusts. A fresh trickle of blood made its way down his inner thigh when Harry pulled out almost all the way, the Monster loving the shock of dark red against the pale skin. Harry vaguely wondered what Crabbe was thinking behind his frozen eyes. What was he feeling as he watched? Angry Draco was being hurt? Scared he would be hurt too? Aroused? The thought made the Monster chuckle.

“Draco…be a good boy and undo our guest’s trousers for him…” its words said in Harry’s voice, though higher and crueller than usual. Draco turned his head against Crabbe’s neck, where he was apparently trying to get some form of comfort, his one visible eye huge with terror as he tried to find his assailant but couldn’t. He let out a sob, taking a shaky deep breath, before one hand dropped from his friend’s shoulder, hesitantly gripping Crabbe’s flyer and pulling it down. He undid the button with heavy, clumsy fingers, his eyes closed again as he buried his face in his friend’s neck, crying softly. 

He eventually pulled out Crabbe’s cock, soft despite the rigidity of his body. Harry wondered if there’s a spell for erectile dysfunction…almost certainly, created by old wizards who couldn’t get it up… Penis Erectus seemed too obvious, but it didn’t need to be fancy. Harry abandoned this musing when his own voice ordered Draco to suck Crabbe’s cock, which, though flaccid, was really rather large. “Be a good boy, Draco, or I’ll have Crabbe rape you as well… He’d probably rip you in half with that thing…and I’ll cut his throat while he’s cumming inside you.” The voice hissed. Draco let out an angry growl and in a flash he had a wand in his hand, either his own or Crabbe’s no-one had time to notice, pointed right at Harry.

“Stupef-“

“Expelliarmus!” Harry’s wand and mind responded reflexively, he didn’t even think the Monster cast the spell that had the wand in Malfoy’s hand flying into the air. “Incarcerus.” It added, pointing Harry’s wand at Draco, who was already reaching for the other wand in Crabbe’s pocket. Thin cords shot from Harry’s wand, wrapping tightly around Draco’s tin wrists and lashing them together, the Monster easily hooking a hand around the cutting ropes to keep them out of trouble.

This had Draco sobbing again, loud and unashamed, and the Monster felt it prudent to cast a few advanced concealment and silencing spells in case a stray villager happened to pass by, although it would be fun to frame Crabbe for raping Draco if they were caught…but deciding this was better, the Monster thrust savagely hard inside Draco, pushing him right up against Crabbe so he was practically in his friend’s lap, bound arms wrapped around Crabbe’s neck like they were lovers. Crabbe’s frozen eyes seemed to be staring right at Harry, despite his invisibility. 

The Monster made Harry’s face grin, and grab a fistful of Draco’s hair to pull him away from Crabbe. Draco made an almost whiny noise, trying to hold onto his friend’s cloak, like it would stop it hurting. 

“Look at the proud Draco Malfoy, Crabbe…don’t you wish you could fuck him until he cries like this?” Harry’s voice asked, laughing in Crabbe’s paralysed face and his floppy cock hanging from his trousers. “Think about all the times he’s ordered you around…look at him now…” Draco was very quiet for this, leading the Monster to believe he was trying to be strong, especially in front of Crabbe. So, still holding Draco by the hair, it pulled his head all the way back to rest on Harry’s invisible shoulder, and forced him to raise one leg, bending it at the knee to reveal Harry’s disembodied cock ramming into his body with staggering force. Blood was trickling down the inside of his planted thigh, his shackled hands trying to cover himself as Harry fucked him mercilessly, pulling his green jumper down over his exposed genitals. The Monster wanted to give Crabbe more of a show, so it pulled all the way out to reveal the full bloodied length of Harry’s certainly-not-small erection, rubbed it against Draco’s thigh for a moment before ramming back in, all the way to the hilt. 

Harry’s true self, or so he thought at least, felt like he was watching through a thick layer of clear ice, seeing everything but lacking the strength to break through. He wondered if Crabbe was feeling similarly…or Draco, for that matter. Perhaps he’d made himself somewhere safe to go in his mind, where he couldn’t feel the pain in his body. But…judging from the truly anguished sobs coming from Draco, it seemed he was all too present…

This seemed to give the Monster another awful idea. Still thrusting mercilessly inside Draco, it pressed Harry’s wand to Draco’s neck and said “Crucio,” loudly and clearly. Draco’s whole body constricted in agony, his back bowing almost inhumanly, screaming hoarsely as his head jerked against Harry’s shoulder as he leaned into him to feel every tremor. The feeling of being inside him was phenomenal and Harry came the hardest he could ever remember, deep inside Draco’s spasming body, stumbling a little as the Monster relished the orgasm. 

The spell broke and Draco went still, Harry’s cock still inside him. Harry held onto him, the distant part of his consciousness, which he was quickly regaining, terrified he’d died from the pain. He lowered them both to the floor, removing himself from the destroyed hole, cradling Draco gently. The Monster seemed to step back in his mind, but Harry could feel its pleasure at seeing Draco so utterly broken. His eyes were half-lidded and blank, his body shaking badly as his breathing came out in short, shallow pants, tears rolling over his temples into his white hair. 

“Coriumtersus.” the Monster said, moving Harry’s wand over Draco, his skin instantly becoming dry and clean, releasing the ropes around his thin wrists as well. “Internumtersus.” Draco’s breath hitched, his unfocussed eyes widening slightly, twitching and shivering at the feeling as his insides followed suit. The Monster then cast another spell, some kind of revitalising charm, and Draco seemed to regain his senses, and some of his strength. He pulled away from Harry and stood up slowly, leaning fully against the wall as he pulled up his trousers. He was looking at the floor where he’d been lying previously, where his incorporeal rapist still knelt. 

“W-what are you…going to do to about…him…?” Draco asked shakily, glancing at Crabbe. The Monster purred softly, making Harry stand up and gently brush Draco’s cheek, which made him flinch away like he’d been burned, barely containing a scream. Then Harry walked over to Crabbe, waved his wand to put Crabbe’s cock back into his trousers, and then the Monster cast an unfamiliar spell. 

“Psurentitia.” It said in Harry’s voice. “He’ll think you went shopping, and bought this.” He said placing the singing lullaby gadget Harry had purchased earlier on the bench beside Crabbe. “He’ll think you came in here when the snow got too heavy. He won’t remember anything of what really happened. Good night, Draco.” He said, released Immobulus and his other protection charms, but his Monster forced him stay and watch. 

Crabbe unfroze, experimentally moving his fingers, and his expression looking confused. He saw Draco and seemed to recall what he thought had happened, and stood up, looking out the window and the calming snowfall. 

“We should head back, yeah?” he asked his friend, picking up the pretty little statue with a proud smile, shoving it in his pocket. He looked at Draco, frowning. “You alright?” he asked. Draco looked pretty awful, pale and shaky and clearly on the verge of tears. He nodded, clearing his throat and putting his Malfoy mask on. 

“Just…just cold. Let’s go.” He said shortly, fixing his coat and hair quickly. Crabbe nodded and they left together, Harry following closely. The wind had picked up in lieu of the heavy snow, almost pushing Draco clean over. Crabbe grabbed his arm when he started to wane, frowning at him. 

“Whoa, Draco…here, wear my cloak, you’re gonna freeze to death.” He said, pulling off his own winter cloak and draping it around Draco’s thin shoulders over his coat. As well as all his natural layering, Crabbe was wearing a thick jumper and barely seemed to feel the cold. 

“Th-thanks…” Draco said weakly, struggling to walk properly, which pleased Harry’s Monster. Crabbe put an arm around the blond in an attempt to keep him warm, apologising for making him leave the pub for him, and they trudged on towards the castle, Draco head down the whole way. 

When they arrived at the castle, the two Slytherins went straight down to the dungeons. As soon as Draco was out of Harry’s sight, the Monster went back to sleep, and Harry had to sprint to the closest bathroom to vomit. He thought he’d reached the pinnacle of how disgusting he could find himself after last time…but this was too much. He curled up in the bathroom stall under his cloak, and sobbed. A second year even came in, but was frightened off by the disembodied crying. He sat there for what could have been hours, sobbing and thinking about how he’d left Draco in a very similar situation just week before…and now he’d involved another person… He thought it would never happen again, he would have rather died…yet here he was. 

After recovering himself, and sprinted up to the Gryffindor tower, where he took the hottest shower he could possibly stand, scrubbing himself raw to get rid of the filth he was drowning in. He went to bed, ignoring Ron’s questions of where the bloody hell he’d been all this time, and dreamt of making Crabbe watch as he ate Draco’s still-beating heart.


	3. Chapter 3

“There you are! We thought you’d be back before us, what took you so lo-”

“You ok, Draco?” Blaise asked, interrupting Pansy’s verbal attack on them as soon as they appeared in the Common Room. The Malfoy was very pale and he was visibly shivering, wrapped up in Crabbe’s cloak as well as his own coat. 

“We tried to wait out the snow in a shelter but-”

“Why didn’t you wait inside…?” Blaise asked Crabbe accusingly, putting his arm around Draco, who looked like he might faint, and sat him down on the sofa right by the fire. It took every ounce of willpower Draco had not to wince as he sank into the soft cushions. Pansy handed over one of the numerous blankets they had in the Common Room, since the dungeons got so cold, and Blaise replaced Crabbe’s cloak with it so he was, at least, dry. “Give me your hands…” he said, and Draco obeyed. Blaise pulled off his gloves and placed his wand just above both his palms. “Calidumus.” He said, and Draco’s frozen hands and down his bruised, hidden arms surged with comforting heat, making him smile weakly in thanks. Even so, he continued to tremble, his strength completely gone from the walk back, which worried his friends. 

“I’ve got some Firewhiskey?” Goyle suggested, regarding his friend with concern. “If nothing else, it’ll help you fall asleep.” He spoke to Draco, whom he knew was having trouble sleeping. He frequently woke up to find the Malfoy boy reading or studying or just sitting in silence, staring into space, but the blond didn’t seem to be listening. Aside from shivering and struggling not to scream or throw up, he didn’t want to look at anyone.

“Yeah, I think that would be good, thanks.” Blaise said, knowing Draco’s sleeping troubles too. Goyle nodded and went to their dormitory to retrieve his stash. Not being 18, the liquor would be confiscated immediately should any of the teachers find it, though most of the older students were eager to partake in, or at least condoned, such contraband. Goyle returned with the bottle and the set of crystal shot glasses Draco gave him for his birthday, and poured one out for each of them, saying it would be a good nightcap for everyone. Blaise gently coaxed Draco to take his shot, clinked his own with it, and swallowed the warming liquid. Draco’s tired eyes watched the others down their own shots, before following their leads. He wanted to feel numb for a while. 

He went to bed, warm and slightly drunk, after a couple more shots with the others, barely recalling what had happened in that shelter it was all such a painful blur, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

*

Harry avoided people the next day, not going down for any meals. On Monday he put his head down and barely spoke during lessons, much to Ron’s disdain. 

Draco was absent, he noticed. Pansy told Flitwick that Draco was ill and in bed with a nasty cold, the little professor encouraging her to send him to Madam Pomfrey. Harry observed the Slytherins out of the corner of his eye. Crabbe was there with Goyle, struggling with their Charms work but completely fine otherwise, Pansy glanced at Draco’s empty seat a couple of times, speaking to Blaise, who looked…angry? He shot a couple of evil looks at Crabbe, probably blaming him for letting Draco get sick. Harry’s stomach was all guilty sickness and knots, barely able to eat a crumb most of the day. His friends asked him a few times what was wrong but they soon gave up, knowing it was pointless. 

The last couple of weeks of term passed slowly. Harry’s nightmares were particularly bad, and particularly disturbing. Every single one involved Malfoy, usually violently sexual. When Harry started waking up, covered on cold sweat and with sticky pyjama trousers, he decided to get a Sleeping potion from Madam Pomfrey, hoping it would curb the strange, sick wet dreams he was so ashamed of. The last few days before the Christmas holidays started were better, sleeping and eating were easier, until he finally saw Draco. 

The Malfoy boy had been absent for the entire fortnight since that awful night in Hogsmeade, just the name of which was now enough to make Harry feel faint and nauseated. They’d overheard Pansy telling Professor McGonagall last week that his cold had become full-on flu and Pomfrey had sentenced him to full bedrest until he could go home for the holidays. On Wednesday 17th December, he walked into the Great Hall with the other Slytherins, and Harry was shocked by his appearance. He was visibly far too thin now, and his skin had taken on a greyish tinge. He moved stiffly, like he wasn’t used to moving, and seemed meek even with his friends, whom he used to all but command. He jumped when Blaise laid a hand on his shoulder to guide him to their table, eyes wide with fear.

“Christ, Malfoy looks awful.” Ron tried to whisper, making several heads turn towards the Slytherin table. 

“He must have been really ill… I feel sorry for him.” Hermione said, frowning with concern at the hollow shell of their nemesis. 

“What? Why?” Ron asked, frowning at her. She rolled her eyes but didn’t elaborate further. Harry wouldn’t tear his eyes from Malfoy’s face, his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks as he forced himself to eat a tiny morsel at a time. His Monster rose with pride inside his chest, as if taking a bow. Harry lowered his head and used his hand to block the Slytherin table from his view, deciding to sit on the other side of the table from now on, as he laboriously ate his own breakfast without choking on it.

*

Harry went to Christmas at the Burrow, his favourite place in the world besides Hogwarts, and did everything he could to enjoy all of it. His bad dreams continued: Malfoy being raped, ripped apart, burned alive, imprisoned and locked away in filth; every night a new horror, but the potion he was taking at least helped him wake up with clean sheets and without waking up Ron. Otherwise, however, it was lovely. Fleur, Bill and even Charlie were staying over, which was wonderful. Charlie and Fleur, surprisingly, got on like a house on fire, Fleur being fascinated by dragons since fighting the Common Welsh Green during the Triward Tournament. 

“Zey are such beautiful creatures! Elegant and fierce: ze perfect woman, non?” 

Mrs Weasley was her usual gracious self, cooking for them all hours of the day, ‘fattening Harry up’ becoming her personal mission when she saw him. 

“Charlie was exactly the same, darling, thin as a rake when he got home from school – they must not feed you enough! I’ll have to write to Dumbledore.”

“No, no, Mrs Weasley, it’s really fine – nothing to do with the food. I’ve just been, I dunno, really stressed lately.”

“Well, being faced with the most powerful dark wizard of all time will do that to a person.” Fred said with a smirk. 

“Not to mention starting your NEWTs prep.” George added with a chuckle, to which Hermione nodded gravelly without the slightest trace of humour. 

Christmas went by happily, then New Year’s Eve with all the fireworks Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes could supply, then before anyone knew it, they were on the train back to school. Harry glimpsed Draco on the platform at King’s Cross, looking somewhat healthier and almost happy, saying goodbye to his mother with a hug. 

All was well. Until it wasn’t anymore. 

They were in their Potions class, the second week of the spring term, and Harry went into the store room to get some more doxy eggs. Draco was already in there, going through jars of Mongolian volcanic truffles for the best specimen, the rarity making their quality questionable. The blond jumped when he heard Harry come in, turning quickly to look at him. His thin face, still too thin, drained of all colour, and the jar of black mushrooms smashed on the stone floor. 

“Potter! Malfoy!” a voice behind them snapped, making them both jump and turn to look at the door. Snape stood there, looking angrily from the broken glass and spilled truffles, which, even in the wizarding world, were expensive, and the two boys. “Detention, both of you. Come back here on Saturday and take an inventory of all ingredients. And clean that up.” He snarled, sweeping away again. Harry let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and looked back at Draco. He heart hurt, but his Monster wriggled happily. 

Draco was standing there, staring at the jar on the floor, looking like he was about to cry. He looked up at Harry with wide, shining eyes, the fear he felt when he realised he’d be alone with Harry was so obvious. Harry stared back at him, completely at a loss for what to say or do. He didn’t want Draco to be afraid of him, he hated it, but he didn’t know how to erase what he’d done. 

Draco seemed to decide not to cry, setting his jaw and his eyes becoming steel once again. He grabbed another jar of truffles and walked past Harry, out into the classroom, head held high. Harry sighed, and repaired the jar, cleaned up the truffles, and selected a jar of doxy eggs, returning to the classroom. Draco was back at his table with Pansy, who seemed to be trying to question him, but Draco wasn’t responding, his jaw still clenched.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked Harry when he sat back with them. He sighed, shrugging. 

“Snape just gave me and Malfoy detention.” He muttered, measuring spoonfuls of doxy eggs into the mortar and pestle. 

“What for?” Ron asked, frowning. 

“I accidentally nudged Malfoy and made him drop a jar of truffles, so now we both have to come back at the weekend and take inventory.” He said, lying so they didn’t question why Draco was scared of him. Hermione sighed angrily, shaking her head, Ron rolled his eyes, and the matter was put to rest as just another example of Snape being a twat. 

They finished Potions and headed off for their lunch, where Harry was unable to stop himself watching Draco yet again from across the Great Hall. Blaise appeared to be trying to offer him a sandwich, but Malfoy wrinkled his nose at it and got up, leaving the room. Harry then watched Pansy and Blaise speak to each other, their faces worried, Blaise gesturing at the door Draco had exited from. Shit, Harry thought, if Draco’s friends started worrying about what was causing his change in behaviour then Draco might end up telling them what Harry had done, and then all hell would break loose. 

The Monster stirred, the same rage bubbling in his chest as when he’d first used Crucio on Malfoy, and realised how good it felt. He knew what his Monster wanted, was telling him to do, and he couldn’t help but agree. Draco needed to understand what would happen if he told anyone, he needed to be taught a lesson. Harry glanced up at the teacher’s table, at Snape, and the Monster seemed to be happy to see him, as if it was thanking the Potions Master for giving Harry such a fine opportunity to get Malfoy alone. 

*

The day of their detention came, an owl arriving at breakfast on Saturday to inform Harry to head straight for the dungeons after eating. He looked up from Snape’s spider-like handwriting to search for Draco, whom he quickly found, reading a similar note. His eyes were gliding over the words, his jaw tight, cheekbones and eye sockets shadowed compared to his ivory skin. Goyle appeared to ask what the letter was, making Draco jump before putting his Malfoy mask on again and shrugging, muttering something as he folded the note up and put it in his pocket. When the others’ attentions weren’t on him, however, the mask shifted and Draco looked like he wanted to scream. Harry felt another wave of awful, crippling guilt, which was quickly consumed by his Monster’s delight. 

“How long do you think Snape will make you do this inventory stuff for?” Ron asked Harry, having read the note over Harry’s shoulder. Harry sighed, shrugging. 

“Dunno, all day probably. And tomorrow if we don’t get it done.” The Monster gave Harry the urge to make sure they had tomorrow with Malfoy as well, but he tried to ignore it. Hermione shook her head. 

“It’s ridiculous, Snape definitely has an excellent inventory system – what a completely pointless task to give you. You have plenty of homework to do, he shouldn’t be allowed to waste your time like this.” She muttered angrily. Harry shrugged, ignoring his Monster’s angry hiss at Hermione, presumably wanting her to shut up. 

Harry parted with his friends in the Entrance Hall as they headed up to the Common Room, and he went down the steep stone steps to the dungeons, and Snape’s Office. He waited there for a couple of minutes before he heard voices approaching, Slytherins on their way to their own Common Room, he assumed. 

“Draco, I really think you should go to the Hospital Wing – you haven’t eaten a thing in days!.” the unmistakably irritating voice of Pansy Parkinson echoed through the hallways. 

“He ate a bit of dinner last night, I made him.” Blaise’s deep voice said, trying to defend Draco, but Pansy just sighed loudly. 

“That’s not good enough! You must still be ill if you have this little appetite, Draco, please.” She sounded passionate, begging her friend. Draco himself didn’t say a word, and finally Harry heard them saying goodbye and they’d see him later. A moment more passed and Draco Malfoy came round the corner, but stopped dead when he saw Harry waiting there. His eyes were wide and he looked like he was considering running off in the opposite direction, only to jump suddenly when Snape’s drawling voice echoed behind him. 

“It’s open, go in.” he said, his approach audible only from the rustling of his robes. Draco turned to look at the Potions Master, who appeared a few seconds later. Harry pushed the office door open and went in, the other two following. “Give me your wands, both of you.” Snape said. They both looked at him, surprised. No wands? “You can have them back at the end of the detention.” He said impatiently, holding out his hand. Harry sighed and produced his wand, handing it over to Snape. Draco did the same, snapping away when his hand was too close to Harry’s. 

Snape stowed both wands in his inside robe pocket, and produced two folded up pieces of parchment from another. “Now, I want you to take a list of ingredients each, and count how many individual units of every ingredient there are. The nature of units vary, for instance a unit of doxy eggs is a jar, a unit of unicorn tale hair is a bag, and unit of dragon bone is per bone – loose items like bones are stored in boxes but don’t count how many boxes there are. Clear?” he asked, looking at them both. Harry nodded, and presumably Draco did the same because Snape thrust the two lists at them. “Compare numbers when you are finished to check there are no discrepancies. If there are discrepancies, you will need to recount those units. I will return at lunch, but I expect you will be here all day at least.” He said, going over to unlock the ingredients store room which had another locked entrance into the Potions classroom. “Quills and ink are on my desk. I will be locking the office door, you may use the bathroom in my office.” He said, sweeping past them to the door and, with that, he left. The click of the door locking echoed in the large stone room.

Harry sighed, looking down at the list in his hands and was horrified to find it very long and double-sided. He looked at Draco, who was staring at him, eyes wide, waiting for him to attack. Harry ignored the rush of muddled feeling he got when he saw the fear in Draco’s eyes, and went over to the desk, selecting a pen and an inkwell, as well as a portable writing board, and went into the store room to begin this truly inane and tedious task. There must be magic for this sort of rubbish…

He started with the shelves to the right of the doorway, and found with further irritation that, though the ingredients were stored in alphabetical order, the list was not laid out accordingly; meaning they would have to actively look for every ingredient wherever it was arbitrarily listed on the hugely long parchment. Harry let out a curse of anger, just as Draco was walking through the doorway, and he flinched violently, jumping away from Harry like he was a poisonous snake. Harry looked at him with wide eyes, wanting to apologise, but Draco was already rushing over to the opposite end of the storeroom, as far away from Harry as possible. The Monster purred, excited. 

The morning passed extremely slowly, not helped by the fact that Harry constantly had the urge to attack Draco whenever the other boy made the slightest sound on the other side of the room. He truly didn’t want to hurt Draco again, but fighting the Monster’s wishes was becoming increasingly more difficult. 

Finally, it was 1pm, and Snape returned to let them out so they could have lunch. They were allowed to go to the Great Hall with everyone else, and Harry joined Hermione, Ron and Ginny as they ate cold meat pie and sandwiches. Harry reported how dreadfully boring the detention was, and they mostly talked of other, more interesting, matters until lunch ended and they separated again. Malfoy was already outside the door when Harry arrived, barely glancing at Harry, and they stood in silence as they waited for Snape. 

Harry’s Monster seemed to grow more excited at the proximity to Draco, and the urge to trap him against Snape’s office door was almost overwhelming. He wondered distantly if Draco was still scared of him, or if he had decided the first attack had only been a one-time thing and Harry had taken steps to control himself better. Maybe he thought he’d imagined what happened in Hogsmeade, like a nightmare. After all, Crabbe didn’t remember anything, and Draco would never tell anyone, he’d probably take it hiss grave. Harry thought about this, strangely placated, while his Monster grew more excited about lulling Draco into a false sense of security, until Snape arrived to let them back in. 

“See you at 6 o’clock.” Was all the Potions Master said before locking them in again. Draco went straight into the store room, picking up his list from Snape’s desk as he went. Harry did the same, and they settled back into their monotonous task 

After another couple of hours, Harry heard Draco stand up and walk past him into Snape’s office. Harry found his feet following him, his Monster stirring in his chest again, his own thoughts becoming fuzzy. He heard the bathroom door close as Draco went in, and his Monster compelled him to methodically move everything off the surface of Snape’s desk, carefully placing each item on the table behind it, memorising the original layout. He waited patiently for the Draco to return, leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door. 

Draco quickly came back, rubbing his hands together after washing them. He closed the door, and his eyes locking with Harry’s when he saw how extremely close he suddenly was. Draco jumped away, then too late tried to get back into the bathroom, to lock himself in for protection, but Harry’s body blocked it before his hand even touched the handle. 

“Stay away from me, Potter.” Draco snarled, backing away from him, eyes wide with terror. The Monster purred at this show of resistance, it made it more interesting. Harry felt his own face grin, and Draco’s face paled. He took another step back, and Harry’s feet moved him forward. “I mean it, Potter, don’t come near m-”

In a flash, Harry had darted forward and grabbed Draco around the neck with almost inhuman speed, as if to throttle him, cutting him off. Draco gasped, eyes widening like the times before, but this time he reeled back and punched Harry, hard, in the face. Harry felt a blaze of pain, his vision blurring as his glasses were knocked away, skittering across the stone floor, but the Monster didn’t seem to notice the strike. 

It gripped Harry’s hands tighter around the Malfoy boy’s throat and shoved him hard into the wall, making the jars on the shelves around them rattle. Draco was gasping for air but, even with his poor vision, Harry knew there was true rage in his eyes, feel it through his skin and taut muscles. “You…can’t…break me…!” Draco snarled, hating Harry with every fibre of his being, kicking at his knees and shins furiously, his nails digging into the flesh of his arms. Harry wanted to scream at him that it wasn’t his fault, the Monster was the one hurting him, but the Monster wouldn’t let him. It knew what it wanted, and nothing could stop it.

A fist met Draco’s face, sending his head snapping back into the stone wall, his lip bleeding. The Monster gripped the front of Malfoy’s robes and pulled him away from the wall, forcing him over to Snape’s desk. It stripped Draco of his clothes in mere seconds, exposing his skinny body, even skinnier than before, to the cold room, grinning at the Dark Mark burned into his wrist, making sure to squeeze it until Draco screamed. Draco swung at him again, but he seemed dizzy and Harry’s hand caught his fist easily, the Monster forcing the arm behind his back and manoeuvring him to bend over the desk. Draco’s free hand scrabbled over the surface, desperately searching for anything to smash over Potter’s head or stab him with. But it was futile, the Monster’s cunning having seen to that. 

“Are you tight again, Draco?” the Monster asked with Harry’s voice. Draco tensed, swearing at him angrily. “We made quite a mess last time…I hope we don’t ruin your darling protector’s rug…” Harry felt confusion in his foggy mind. Snape was Draco’s protector? Since when? “I wonder how his Unbreakable Vow will be affected when I rape you on his very own desk…” the laughter was high and cruel. What on earth was an Unbreakable Vow? Harry didn’t even understand the words coming out of his own mouth. 

“Draco-” he gasped, fighting the Monster back from his own mind. Draco’s head turned, trying to look at him, confused and frightened by Harry’s changing demeanour. “I’m sorry, Draco-” he cut himself off, his consciousness being pushed back into the shadows as the Monster grew angry with its host. The Monster pressed Harry’s hips into Draco’s arse, trapping him against the desk, to reassert its dominance over them both. 

“No lubricating charm this time, I’m afraid…” it said calmly, reclaiming Harry’s voice, and pressed Harry’s thumb into the tight, dry heat of Draco’s entrance. He leaned down and Harry felt himself spit on the hole, the clear saliva rolling over the pale pink pucker, his thumb disappearing deeper inside the boy. He felt Draco tense, his breathing panicked as memories crashed over him, conditioned to expect pain. He began begging Harry to stop, pleading with him to let him go, ‘not again, Harry’ he sobbed. 

Harry’s belt was undone, and his cock fell out, pressed between Draco’s arse cheeks once again. It was hard already, though Harry felt no arousal at all, and Draco was screaming, fingernails scrabbling against the wood of the desk. The Monster tutted, lamenting the lack of magical silencers at its disposal, and forced Draco onto his back on the desk, tugging his hair and arms. Harry’s eyes met the huge grey ones, tears rolling down his face as he cried, unashamed and desperate. The utter terror in Draco’s face was horrifying to Harry, but delightful to his Monster. One of Harry’s hands pressed itself over Draco’s mouth, sufficiently muffling his screams for help. 

The other hand moved Harry’s cock to align with Draco’s barely lubricated hole, and the Monster thrust forward. Harry watched Draco’s eyes go impossibly wide as he was violated, staring back at him. His screams stopping for a moment though his mouth stayed open beneath Harry’s hand. Pain and pleasure caressed the edges of Harry’s mind, but he was far too horrified to feel it. 

Draco was sobbing freely, his voice muffled by Harry’s hand as the Potter raped him for the third time. He tried to fight several more times, swinging weak punches and kicks at Harry but none of them landed very effectively. The Monster seemed angry that it couldn’t watch Draco being raped because of Harry’s farsightedness, so It forced Harry’s body to lean over him, their chests pressing together like they were making love, like they were a couple, Harry kissing and biting Draco’s neck, but Draco’s sobs and the scent of blood broke this twisted illusion. The Monster happily listened to the sobs and whimpers coming from Draco, knowing he was truly trapped under Harry’s weight, and in too much pain to struggle with any power. 

Harry didn’t feel his own orgasm at all this time, like his Monster was refusing to share the pleasure with its host. The Monster went back to sleep with a contented hiss, leaving Harry resting heavily on top of Draco, suddenly panting and half blind, his knees weak. He stood up quickly, horrified, his still-sensitive cock slipping out of Draco’s newly ripped and bloody hole. The blond boy lay there, shivering and crying, blood and cum pooling on the desk beneath him and dripping off the edge onto Harry’s shoe. He didn’t attempt to get up, just lay there, broken, dead. Harry looked around for his own glasses, the vague shapes that made up the world making his eyes and head hurt. He finally found them in the corner and put them on, only to find the left lens was cracked. 

He forced himself to look back at Draco, seeing him clearly now. He was motionless except his shuddering breaths, his eyes squeezed shut – like if he couldn’t see it, then it wasn’t real. Harry went quietly to the bathroom, cleaned himself up before finding a clean cloth, and filling a bowl with warm water. He returned to Draco, still on the desk, and placed the bowl of water down, soaking the cloth in it. And, gently, he began washing Draco’s body. He flinched when Harry first placed the cloth on his right wrist, but didn’t seem to have the energy to care if this was another attack. After a few more moments of Harry washing his skin, Draco spoke.

“Why…?” he asked very softly, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at Harry, his lips looked dry. Harry stared back for a moment, then sighed, looking down as he shook his head. 

“I…I don’t know…” he whispered, feeling his own eyes stinging with tears. Draco watched him a moment longer, before closing his eyes. Harry cleaned Draco as best he could, until he got to where it mattered… The pink mess made him feel sick to his stomach, staring at the horrific, brutal act his own body had done. “Draco…do you want me to…?” he trailed off. Draco looked at him, his eyes completely empty, made of cold steel, and he shook his head. 

“Help me to the bathroom…” he said, softly, starting to sit himself up. He let out a low moan of pain as he shifted, biting down on his already split lip, hard. There was drying blood on his chin, and a dark bruise developing along his cheekbone. Harry’s own jaw was burning, he assumed he’d have a bruise there pretty soon too…how the fuck were they going to explain this to Snape…? 

Harry picked Draco up with too much ease, feeling him tense and shiver and whimper, and took him into the bathroom. He sat him on the toilet without being instructed, and left him alone, closing the door. Harry let out a deep, shaking breath as he stood there in Snape’s office, fighting the urge to destroy everything in it. He walked over to the desk, rinsed out the cloth, and cleaned up the mess from the desk, scrubbing the small bits that had found its way into the rug beneath. He then gathered up Draco’s clothes, which were scattered across the floor, and knocked on the bathroom door.

“I’ve got your clothes…” Harry said. There was a pause, followed by an audible sniffle, and the door opened. Draco’s pale, exhausted face appeared, and Harry handed him the bundle of garments before the Malfoy closed it again without another word. Harry closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the wood of the door, tears rolling down his own cheeks.

It was another half an hour before Draco came out of the bathroom. Harry had restored all the objects on Snape’s desk to what he hoped was the original layout, and looked up when the door opened. Despite being impeccably dressed once again, Draco looked awful. The bruise on his cheek was dark and angry, having made its way up to his eye socket, and he’d cleaned up the dry blood from his lip but the cut itself looked very sore, and he looked painfully thin as he shuffled through the door. Harry wanted to help him, but he knew Draco would hate that more, so he watched, heartbroken, as Draco Malfoy inched his way towards the sofa in the corner, using anything he could get his hands on as support. When he made it, he very slowly and gingerly lowered himself onto the cushions, carefully avoiding sitting at all. He ended up lying on his side facing the room, and Harry, and curled up. Harry looked away when he started crying again, and went into the store room to continue their task, filling in Draco’s list as well as his own. It was the absolute least he could do, his whole body feeling wretched and disgusting with guilt. 

When Snape finally returned at 6 o’clock, he found both boys bore very clear signs of a physical fight. Draco even had bruises around his neck, like Potter had strangled him. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Snape demanded, having pulled Harry out of the storeroom. Draco was leaning against the table like he was in a lot of pain, and Potter’s glasses were broken and his face was just as bruised as Malfoy’s. 

“We…had an argument, Professor, I’m sorry.” Harry said, glancing at Draco. Snape glared at them both, clearly unsure if he should believe him. 

“Malfoy? What was this argument about?” he asked. Draco looked at him, struggling to stay composed, and forced himself to straighten up, wearing the Malfoy mask as best he could. 

“I…” he started hoarsely, then cleared his throat, “I can’t remember, sir…something stupid…” he said, his jaw clenched. Snape sighed, pulling their wands from his pocket and handing them back to their owners. 

“Well, go to the Hospital Wing if you need to.” He said, eyeing Draco in particular. “Potter, report to Mr Filch in his office after breakfast tomorrow. Draco, you will come here again. Just because you can’t be in the same room together doesn’t mean you escape punishment. Where are the lists of ingredients?” 

“On the desk, sir.” Harry said. Snape turned to pick them up, looking over them both, then gave a curt nod. 

“Very well. Go, now.” he muttered, not looking up as he sat down at his desk. Harry looked at Draco, who drew himself up to walk almost confidently towards the door. Harry glanced back at Snape, relieved to see he hadn’t noticed anything different about his desk, and followed Draco out of the office, though stayed a fair distance away from him. Draco turned the corner to head for the Slytherin Common Room and dormitories, his hand on the stone wall as he slowed down, dropping his fake strength. Harry knew Draco would hate it if he tried to help, but he would feel even worse if someone saw him while he looked this weak. 

“Draco, I’m going to help you.” He said, making Draco jump and turn, leaning heavily against the wall. He studied Harry for a moment, as if assessing the threat, but sighed and nodded. He was totally exhausted, obviously, and needed to sleep. Harry moved over to him, and pulled Draco’s arm around his own shoulders, wrapping his own arm around his waist. Draco tensed at the contact, his jaw tight at their closeness, but didn’t say a word. They made their slow way to the Slytherin Common Room, both hoping everyone would be at dinner. 

Draco stopped them at a space of blank wall and, with all the authority he could muster, said “Triskaidekaphobia.” The wall then fell away to reveal a passage into the Common Room. 

“Will I be able to go in?” Harry asked. 

“You did in second year…” Draco muttered, sounding resignedly impatient. Harry gaped at him. 

“How did you…-” Draco rolled his eyes tiredly. 

“I asked Crabbe and Goyle. They woke up in a broom cupboard at 4 in the morning, and you were always skulking arou-” he cut himself off, biting his lip to muffle a moan of pain when he tried to stand a bit taller. Harry helped him quickly into the Common Room, which was just as he remembered it – large, grand, and cold. “Through there…” Draco said, pointing a shaky finger to an ornate black door to the left. Harry nodded and they went over to it, Harry awkwardly opening the door and manoeuvring them both through. Draco pointed to another door and they went in, finding a dormitory with 5 beds. It was very similarly laid out to Harry’s own room, except the reds and golds were replaced with greens and silvers, and it felt much colder in here. 

Harry immediately knew which bed was Draco’s – the absolute neatest one by far, the bed immaculately made, and only a few personal belongings on display. Harry eased Draco down to sit on the bed, trying to ignore his sharp inhalation of breath and the clear sheen of feverish sweat on his forehead. 

“Your eyes were red…” Draco said after a moment, not looking at Harry. Harry’s breathing caught.

“W-what…?”

“Before…you weren’t you. Your eyes were…were like his…” he spoke softly, barely more than a whisper, but the words hit Harry’s ears like a foghorn. He knew who he meant, and it terrified him. “Don’t…come near me anymore, Potter…please…” he looked at him now, finally, his eyes so empty and tired that Harry wanted to cry. He just nodded and Draco lay down on his bed, closing his eyes. Harry left the Slytherin dungeon, and went up to the Great Hall for dinner, repairing his glasses and covering his bruises with a glamour spell on the way. 

He looked over at the Slytherin table as he entered, spotting Blaise and Pansy looking at him, both looking confused. He put his head down and went to join his friends, pretending everything was fine. 

“If Potter’s here, where’s Draco?” Pansy asked, watching Harry look over at them, then quickly head down the Gryffindor table. 

“Maybe he’s talking to Snape… Or he’s just given up on eating altogether…” Blaise muttered, an edge to his voice. He was sure Pansy was just being paranoid about Draco, but he did eat his dinner much quicker than he usually would. He finished within moments of Potter appearing, and got up. Pansy stood too, wrapping some hot roast potatoes in a clean napkin for Draco if he was hungry. They left together, heading downstairs to their Common Room. 

Blaise walked into the 6th year boys’ dormitory, and found Draco curled up on his bed, fully clothed, apparently asleep. He knew his friend hadn’t been sleeping much at all recently so this would have been good to see, were it not for the dark bruising across the pale face. Blaise was instantly angry and stormed into the room, shaking Draco’s shoulder. The grey eyes snapped open, panic filling his very pale face as he jumped away from his friend. Blaise backed off quickly, his hands up to show him he wasn’t going to hurt him, deeply concerned by the reaction. Usually, Draco would just moan at him, or tell him to fuck off, but now he looked terrified. He had been quite jumpy recently, more so than usual, but this was much worse.

“Whoa, mate…sorry, didn’t mean to scare you… What the bloody hell happened to your face?” Draco was still staring at him, grey eyes wide, but he seemed to calm himself down, letting out a shaky breath. Pansy rushed in, glaring at his bruised cheekbone.

“Was it fucking Potter?!” she demanded, her raised voice making Draco flinch. Blaise noticed and pulled Pansy away from him, calmly sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Are you alright?” he asked Draco, his voice soft. Draco looked between them, struggling with all the words bubbling in his chest. 

“Oh my God, Draco, your neck!” Pansy cried, her face filled with horror. Draco closed his eyes at that, wanting it all to go away. Blaise moved closer to him, staring at the dark, angry bruising around the slender white throat. There were clear marks made by fingers, hands, someone had tried to strangle Draco. 

“Jesus Christ, Draco…” he gasped. Draco looked distraught, like his world was crashing down around him, and Blaise couldn’t take it anymore. He moved forward and pulled Draco into a tight hug, rubbing his back. He was very tense for a moment, and Blaise thought he might try to struggle, but he soon began to relax, and then he was crying.

Blaise held him tightly as he sobbed into his shoulder, feeling his bones through his clothes. He glanced over to see Pansy walk around the bed, and she sat beside them, tears in her eyes as she joined the hug, stroking Draco’s hair gently. 

“Draco…God, Draco, what happened…?” Blaise asked him quietly, once his sobs had lessened. Draco sat up slowly, his eyes tired and so sad. “You can talk to us, Draco…” he said, wiping at the tear tracks on the pale cheeks with his thumb. Draco winced when his hand got a little too close to his bruise, and sighed. 

“Potter…” he said softly, his voice a little hoarse. They both looked at him, Pansy about to explode that she knew it. “But he…he wasn’t Potter, his eyes were red…- He…he…” he bit his broken lip, fighting more tears. He was so tired. “He r-raped me…” he said finally, looking down.

They were silent for so long he had to look up to check they were still even there. Pansy was staring at him with huge eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks, hands covering her mouth, and Blaise looked the angriest Draco had ever seen him. 

“He fucking…he fucking what…?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous. “When…where…?” he didn’t want to know, but he wanted Draco to tell him.

“I-in Snape’s office…and before that in a bathroom…a-and then in Hogsmeade…” he said, trying to get it all out before it poisoned him. “It hurts so much…” he said quietly, feeling impossibly small and weak. Pansy made a little noise and she hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back as they both cried. 

“Draco…he hurt you today…? In your detention?” Blaise asked, and they both looked at him. He nodded, looking down, pushing up his right sleeve to show the newly forming bruises around his fragile-looking wrist. The black boy growled, his expression one of seething rage, and he stood up. “We’re taking you to Pomfrey, come on.” He said decisively. Draco looked up at him, eye wide with fear as he tried to shake his head. 

“No…n-no, I can’t… They’ll s-send an owl to my parents, my father will never-” he felt himself panicking the same time Pansy realised it. She grabbed his face, making him look into her eyes. 

“Look at me, Draco.” She said firmly, and he tried to. “It will be fine, your father won’t find out unless you want him to.” She said, and he nodded, taking deep breaths. “You’re in so much pain, Draco…let us help you, please.” She begged, her expression desperate. He looked at her, then at Blaise, startled to find the same concerned expression. He sighed and nodded.

“Fine…” he muttered. They both smiled and Blaise helped Draco stand up, further enraged by how weak and damaged his friend was. It was still dinner so the hallways would be more or less empty, so they headed up to the first floor. Draco struggled with the stairs, but Pansy and Blaise were a strong presences beside him, and he felt stronger knowing it would be over now. 

They arrived to find Madam Pomfrey eating at her desk, an almost finished plate of roast beef and trimmings in front of her as she read a book. She looked up with a start when the doors opened, her eyes widening further when she saw Draco. 

“Goodness me, bring him in.” she called to them, moving to the bed closest to her office. “What’s happened?” she asked, helping Blaise get Draco settled on the bed, his whimper of pain very clear. 

“He…he’s been attacked…” Pansy said, looking at Draco for leave to tell the truth. He closed his eyes tiredly, and nodded. 

“He’s been raped.” Blaise said, having seen it too. Pomfrey’s eyes went big as saucers, utter horror on her face. 

“Oh…oh my Goodness…oh my goodness, that’s…-” she took a deep breath, grounding herself, and smiled gently at Draco. “I’ll give you something for the pain, dear, alright…?” she asked, a little breathlessly, her manner slightly too sweet. She placed a bony hand on Draco’s forehead and frowned. “Quite a high fever too…” she muttered, mostly to herself. Blaise felt his anger boil, seeing how terribly hurt Draco was. He could barely keep his eyes open and focussed, his shaking much worse now.

“You stay here with him, ok? I need to do something…” he said to Pansy, squeezing her arm. He leaned over and kissed Draco’s hair, rubbing his arm with a serious expression, and left the Hospital Wing. Draco looked at Pansy, clearly very worried about Blaise’s intentions. She smiled at him reassuringly, though she feared what might happen too.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaise strode down the corridor at a brisk pace, blood rushing in his ears, his whole body tense with rage. How dare someone hurt Draco like that? How dare they? Harry Potter did this, he needed to pay. 

He was ready to confront Potter in the Great Hall, in front of everyone, tell the whole school what their golden child Harry Potter does to people, but he spotted Harry on the staircase going down to the Entrance Hall instead. He was with Weasley and Granger, like it was just a normal day of classes. 

“POTTER!” Blaise shouted, and all the chattering and milling about stopped, like time had ceased passing. Lots of people turned to see who had shouted and a confused, excited chatter recommenced, until Harry replied. 

“Zabini?” he asked in an even tone, infuriating Blaise further. How can he be so calm and arrogant after hurting Draco so badly, after breaking him?

“Draco told me, Potter. He told me everything.” He saw a flash of fear in Harry’s eyes, the looks of confusion on his friends’, and everyone else’s, faces. “You’re not getting away with it!” Blaise snarled, pulling out his wand. Instantly, Potter, Granger and Weasley all had their own wands pointing right at him. 

“Blaise, don’t be stupid!” Goyle shouted, he and Crabbe just leaving the Great Hall. Blaise ignored him, gripping his wand. He wanted to make Potter suffer, like he’d made Draco suffer for who knows how long. He was just trying to think of the best spell to use, his pounding heart drowning out his thoughts, when a voice boomed around them.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dumbledore was striding into view from dinner. Blaise met the old man’s eyes as he looked up at him, his jaw tight, but he never moved his wand from Potter. 

“Lower your wands, all of you!” McGonagall cried angrily, appearing beside the Headmaster. Blaise hesitated, looking back down at Harry and the others. Hermione had obeyed, and was nudging the others to do the same. Weasley was looking stupidly at Potter, obviously not wanting to unless he did. “Now!” McGonagall shrieked, and Harry and Ron’s wands dropped, Harry staring up at Blaise, his mouth a tight line. Blaise did the same, slowly, not taking his eyes off Potter. McGonagall and Dumbledore both came up the stairs. 

“To my office, please, Blaise. And you, Harry.” Dumbledore said calmly, walking past them all. Blaise broke his staring contest with Potter, and followed the teachers. He vaguely heard Potter’s friends asking what Blaise had meant, but Harry just said he’d see them later. 

Blaise followed Dumbledore and McGonagall up to the Headmaster’s Tower. He could sense Potter behind him but knew that, if he looked back, he’d do something he’d probably regret. They arrived at a large stone gargoyle, and Dumbledore said ‘Caramel Cauldrons’ and the gargoyle began to spin, moving upwards and bringing a spiral staircase with it. Blaise was taken aback, having never visited the Headmaster’s office. Potter, however, didn’t even break stride, passing Blaise as he followed the teachers up the stairs. Blaise clenched his jaw, and followed. 

Dumbledore’s office was large, and full of strange objects on spindle-leg tables. Blaise didn’t care about that though, he cared about Draco. 

“Now,” Dumbledore said, sitting down behind his desk, McGonagall standing beside him “what was all that fuss about? Blaise? Care to explain why you brandished your wand at a fellow student?” he asked calmly, looking at him over his half-moon spectacles. It irritated Blaise, but he conceded, wanting Potter to be punished. 

“Yes, sir. Harry Potter attacked Draco… He’s covered in bruises and…Draco said Potter…he said Potter raped him, sir.” He lowered his eyes as he said this last painful thing, his fists and jaw clenched to stop himself screaming. There was silence for a moment, he couldn’t see their expressions but he imagined they would be similar to Madam Pomfrey’s – shock and sadness. Potter was completely silent. Say something, you coward. Blaise thought angrily, watching him from the corner of his eyes. His head was down, his fists were clenched too, shaking. 

“Is this true, Potter…?” McGonagall asked slowly, her voice tight, almost tremulous. Blaise turned his head to look at Harry when he saw him nodding, and he was surprised to see he was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Y…yes… I hurt Draco…I hurt him so badly…” he sobbed, shaking his head slowly. “I w-wanted to stop…I’ve never wanted anything to stop more in my life but…something was controlling me…in my head, in my chest…the Monster wouldn’t let me stop…-”

“Monster? What do you mean?” McGonagall asked. Blaise looked at the teachers, and saw they were both staring at Harry. McGonagall looked completely dumbfounded, her face white, and Dumbledore had a hauntingly blank expression, studying Potter fixedly. 

“This…thing in me… Every time I saw Draco…it would stir. It woke up when I was angry…when I wanted to hurt Malfoy but…it took over and…and really hurt him…”

“Where is Draco now, Blaise?” Dumbledore asked. Blaise jumped at being addressed, looking at him. 

“I-in the Hospital Wing, sir.” He said. Dumbledore nodded, and stood.

“Professor McGonagall, I would like you to accompany Mr Zabini to the Hospital Wing. I will take Mr Potter to visit Professor Snape.” He said decisively. McGonagall nodded, and gestured Blaise out of the door before her, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. He obeyed, and they walked to the Hospital Wing in silence, Blaise barely able to keep up with the Scottish woman’s hasty strides, like she was forcing herself not to run. 

When they arrived at the Hospital Wing, they found the curtains drawn around Draco’s bed, and Pansy sitting at Pomfrey’s desk, hands wrapped around a steaming tea mug, and looking exhausted. Her eyes were red and puffy, she’d obviously been crying a lot. She stood up when she saw Blaise, rushing over to hug him. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, scared Draco had gotten worse while he was gone.

“It’s just so awful…!” she sobbed. He hugged her, looking at McGonagall, who had a very harassed, almost scared, expression on her lined face. 

“Poppy?” she called, and Pomfrey came through the door of her office, carrying a large heavy book which she placed carefully on her desk. She looked worried, not even trying to smile at her friend and colleague. McGonagall rushed over to her, and they spoke in hushed, quick whispers. Blaise tried to hear what they were saying, but could only catch a few words: before, fever, blood. McGonagall covered her own mouth, and Pomfrey led her over to the drawn curtains. Blaise only caught a glimpse of what lay beyond the white curtains as they were drawn back, but that was enough. Draco lay on his side in the bed, deathly pale, bruises stark and angry against his skin. His expression was pained, clearly shivering feverishly. The curtain closed again, and Blaise released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. 

He and Pansy sat down at Pomfrey’s desk, silently waiting. There were murmurings from behind the curtain, it sounded like they were asking Draco questions, but his replied were too soft to hear. 

After a few minutes, both women reappeared, McGonagall clearly trying to keep herself together as Pomfrey firmly closed the curtains. Pansy and Blaise both looked at her. 

“Will he be alright?” Pansy asked. The matron smiled wearily and nodded. 

“Yes, dear, he will be able to leave in a week or so. You’re his friends, I take it?” she asked them both, and they nodded. “He will need you. You need to be there for him…” she said seriously, looking into both of their eyes. They both nodded, tears forming in Pansy’s eyes again, Blaise’s jaw so clenched his teeth ached. “For now, the best thing we can do for him is let him sleep.” She said, then seemed to think for a moment before speaking again. “He’s very thin…has he been eating?” she asked them. Blaise and Pansy looked at each other, then Blaise shook his head. 

“He’s never been much of an eater, but recently he’s been much worse.” he said. “We’ve done our best trying to get him to eat but he just cringes at it most of the time… We were trying to get him to talk to you about it…before this…” he muttered, letting out a sharp sigh. 

“Can we see him?” Pansy asked. Pomfrey sighed and nodded, gesturing them over. 

“Only for a moment, he’s asleep.” She said softly, holding the curtain open for them. They went through, and Pansy could barely contain a sob when she saw him. She went over to him, stroking his soft white gold hair off his forehead and holding his hand. 

“He’s so c-cold…” she whispered, tucking his hand under the blanket. Blaise stood at Draco’s feet, staring at him. He thought about what Draco had said, that Harry had hurt him like this before…twice. How had they not noticed Draco was in so much pain? The first time must have been so…unbearable. He wondered when it had happened. In a bathroom, Draco had said… It must have been the day Draco came back to the Common Room quite late, having missed dinner. He’d said he’d been studying late in the library but the knees of his trousers had been wet and he went straight to bed, looking completely exhausted. But that had been, what? Over a month ago…had he really been dealing with this for that long? Blaise wanted to scream and cry and never let Draco out of his sight again. He moved closer to Draco as he lay, motionless and broken, on the bed, leaned down, kissing his forehead gently. He moved away slightly, looking down at the soft, porcelain-like skin and fine features. 

“I’m sorry, Draco…I’m so sorry…” then tears were falling down Draco’s cheeks, but not from Draco’s eyes, which were closed. Pansy shoved Blaise away, hissing about waking him up, and gently wiped Blaise’s tears from Draco’s skin. Blaise’s chest was burning with sobs, surging in his lungs, and he had to almost run from the Hospital Wing before he could let it out, not wishing to wake Draco. 

He stood in the corridor outside, sobbing and swearing, kicking and punching whatever was in front of him – a wall, a door, a suit of armour. One portrait told him to keep it down, to get a hold of himself, but another portrait hushed her, saying letting emotions out was good for the sinuses. 

Blaise waited outside for Pansy to join him, and they walked back to the Slytherin dungeon, both sniffing covertly. They both went to bed as soon as they arrived, parting with weary words. Blaise got to their room and collapsed onto his own bed. No-one else was there yet, thankfully, and he was able to cry some more before getting ready for bed. 

He dreamed of Draco, screaming, covered in blood. He dreamed of Harry Potter turning into a dragon, and burning Draco alive, then crunching on his charred bones, the blackened shards raining down around Blaise as he stood, paralysed in his own subconscious. He woke up panting, his back drenched with sweat, and he felt sick. Goyle was sitting up, wearing his pyjamas, frowning at Draco’s empty bed. 

“What happened?” he asked Blaise quietly, glancing at him. He knew Goyle was fond of Draco, even if he’d never admit it, and Blaise decided he deserved to know. 

“Potter attacked him.”

“Attacked…?” Goyle asked, still staring at the immaculately arranged bedding Draco spent that morning before breakfast perfecting. Whenever he’d asked Draco why he put so much effort into making his bed every morning, Draco would say he just liked the way it looked, clean and tidy. Draco always liked to be clean and tidy…

“Potter…Potter raped him… Apparently it’s happened before, a couple of times.” He said, feeling numb. Goyle’s jaw clenched tightly, wringing his huge hands, his expression dark and sad. 

“I knew something was wrong… Something in his eyes…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Are they handling it? The teachers?” he asked. Blaise shrugged.

“I guess so, Dumbledore took Potter to Snape…maybe they’re gonna see if it’s true…” Goyle nodded slowly.

“Can you go to Azkaban for…for that..?” he asked, as unwilling to say the word as most people were saying a certain name. 

“Not sure… But Potter’s underage…” he said, thinking hard. “He said something made him do it…something took over his mind and made him hurt Draco…” he said. Goyle let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as if to say ‘yeah, right’. Blaise didn’t know what to think about any of it, all he cared about was that his friend had been hurt. “Night…” he said, lying back down, and Goyle replied the same. 

*

The next morning was a blur of questions, stares, and scathing, biting rumours. The whole school knew about Blaise loudly confronting Harry Potter in the Entrance Hall, and that it had something to do with Draco Malfoy. Rumours included use of the Cruciatus Curse or some other awful torture spell, Harry attacking Draco with a poisoned knife, and the two of them having a duel that ended in Malfoy’s death – though lots of people seemed to know Draco was in the Hospital Wing, and was alive.

Blaise ate breakfast with Pansy, who seemed angry at the rumours but angrier at Blaise for making such a big thing about it. 

“Draco won’t want everyone to know, you idiot!” she scolded him.

“They don’t know.” he hissed back. “None of these stupid rumours are even close, they all think it was just a fight.” She sighed, looking tired. She’d barely slept that night, her imagination reeling with horrifying images of Draco being raped. “I told Goyle…but he won’t say anything…” he said. She nodded, knowing this to be true, and they didn’t talk for a while after that. 

It was Sunday, so they went to visit Draco, taking his homework along in case he wanted something to do. He was sitting up in bed when they arrived, looking pale but his bruises were pretty much gone and he didn’t seem to be in too much pain. He was eating a piece of toast, which they were very glad to see. 

“You’re eating!” Pansy said with a grin as they sat down beside the bed. He nodded. 

“Pomfrey gave me an appetite stimulant…” he said, not really looking at them. “So…what’s happening?” he asked. Blaise sighed and told him the whole story of what happened the night before, starting from their own conversation that led to them taking him to the Hospital Wing, unsure if he’d remember. Draco nodded along with a slight frown as he listened, waiting until Blaise was finished before speaking. 

“Dumbledore took him to Snape…? Why?” he asked. Blaise shrugged. 

“I thought maybe to see if it was…if it was all true. Maybe Veritaserum, or that Legilimency thing that you do.”

“Draco does Occlumency…” Pansy corrected him, but Draco looked horror-struck. 

“If…if Snape does Legilimency on Potter…h-he’ll see everything…” he said, his voice shaking. Snape…and probably Dumbledore seeing what Potter did to him… He was just being sucked into a blind panic when he felt warmth around his shoulders. He looked up to see Blaise, his arm around him as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Draco looked at him, eyes wide, and Blaise returned his gaze, steady and calm, calming. He slowly looked down, letting out a shaky breath, relaxing into him. Blaise looked at Pansy, who looked very sad. 

“It’ll be ok, Draco…” he said, rubbing his arm gently, holding him close. 

*

“Why won’t they let us even see him?” Hermione demanded yet again, pacing up and down the Common Room. Harry had gone to Dumbledore’s office right after dinner, and it was now almost 3 o’clock in the morning. 

“Calm down, Hermione, I’m sure its fine. That prick Blaise was bang out of order, he’s probably just trying to get it sorted so they know the truth.”

“But what if Harry did do something awful, Ron? He’s been acting so strangely lately…what if he did hurt Draco? Blaise was really angry…it must have been something horrible…” she said fretfully, her mind reeling with possibilities, each more horrific than the last. “He’s not been right for a while now, he could have done something really terrible… What if it was an Unforgivable Curse or something? He could go to Azkaban!” she cried, losing her composure more and more with every word. 

“Keep your voice down!” he hissed, conscious of how late it was. “Anyway, you really think Harry’s got it in him to do something like that? Even to Malfoy?” Ron demanded, angry she was even suggesting it. 

“He used the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange less than six months ago, Ron!” she cried, fighting tears now.

“She’d just killed Sirius, the only family he had left, right in front of him! All Malfoy does is insult him, he’s never done anything like that-” they both looked up when the Portrait Hole opened, Ron’s sentence dying in the air. Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore stepped inside, then Harry behind them. 

“Harry!” Hermione cried, breathlessly, and Ron stood up. Harry barely glanced at them. 

“Come with me, Mr Potter, we will collect what you need for the night.” Dumbledore said, heading for the boys’ dormitories. 

“What’s going on? Why does he need his stuff?” Ron asked, looking between the three of them. Dumbledore gestured Harry up the stairs, and he obeyed, the Headmaster following him. Ron and Hermione both looked at McGonagall, their expressions incredulous. She looked tired, sighing. 

“We are keeping Mr Potter separate from the rest of the students while we…investigate these claims from Mr Zabini.” 

“You can’t believe Blaise! Him and Malfoy are doing this to f-”

“I can assure you, Mr Weasley, that Mr Malfoy is in no condition to be doing anything close to what you are implying.” She said, almost angrily, and he went quiet, looking at Hermione, whose eyes were wide. 

“So…so Harry did hurt Draco… Oh…oh my God…” she whispered, slowly sitting down on the sofa with her hand over her mouth. McGonagall looked sympathetic, but Dumbledore and Harry returned before she could offer any consolation. The three of them left quickly, Harry carrying his rucksack over one shoulder, his jaw tight and eyes fixed ahead of him, blatantly avoiding his friends’ eyes. When they were gone, Ron and Hermione sat in silence, completely shocked. After a while, Hermione went up to bed, and Ron forced himself to go up too. The dormitory felt very wrong without Harry…


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione and Ron didn’t go down for breakfast on Sunday morning, too scared of rumours and questions to face the other students. They sat by the fire in silence, each consumed by their own thoughts. 

When Ginny asked where Harry was on her way out, they’d said he was with Dumbledore, sorting something out. She’d frowned suspiciously, but decided it was just another one of their stupid secrets and left with her friends. When she returned, however, she looked pale and regarded them with what looked very much like fear. 

After staring at them for a while longer than was normal, she walked over and sat down slowly. 

“It's not true, is it? What they’re saying?” There was a mixture of defiance, disbelief and true fear in her eyes when they glanced at each other, then Ron sighed. 

“We don’t know what happened. All we know is that Dumbledore and McGonagall brought Harry up here last night, he took a bag of stuff, and they left. That was the last time we saw him, and he didn’t say a word to us.” He said, barely looking at his sister. 

“But…Harry didn’t do anything terrible, did he? What could he have done, even to Ferret Face?” she asked incredulously but, when neither of them offered reassurance, she scoffed and stormed off to her dormitory. 

Everyone else avoided them that day. Not even well-meaning Neville attempted to distract them with some lesser known herbologist’s theories on why Australian plants tended to have lower voices than European ones, though he was happy to regale Dean and Seamus despite their weary looks. 

The day ended agonisingly slowly. They decided to brave the Great Hall for dinner, having only eaten when they had lying around in the Common Room all day. A hush came over the bustling dining room when the two appeared, most notably sans Potter. Then a cacophony of whispering erupted, angering Ron almost to the point of bolting, but Hermione had gripped his wrist and pulled him to their usual place at the Gryffindor table, her nose in the air imperiously. 

They sat down and began eating, trying to relax amongst their respectfully pleasant friends even as the entire hall watched them and gossiped. Hermione chanced a look at the Slytherin table, finding Blaise just getting up to leave his friends and Pansy staring daggers directly back at her.

*

Blaise had decided to eat with Draco in the Hospital Wing, unable to stomach the glances and mutterings and the chicken in white wine sauce the elves had served for the Sunday meal, despite it being pretty delicious. Madam Pomfrey had set them up with a little table over Draco’s bed to accommodate his guest, and they ate in relative comfort and silence. 

Draco’s bruises were gone now, in their absence he looked almost himself…despite his extreme thinness and general air of someone struggling not to scream. Blaise’s presence was a huge comfort to him, however, as was Pansy’s in her own shrill way. He was happy when they visited, he didn’t have to think as much, or talk, he could simply listen and float. Blake’s was a great storyteller and he delighted in telling his friend funny stories from the last couple of days, such as Theodore forgetting the correct pronunciation of a charm that is supposed to make bricks form themselves into a perfect wall and ended up making them dance around him in a circle before forming a solid wall, forcing Professor Flitwick to carry out a controlled explosion to rescue him. 

Draco had laughed at that, a lot considering how sombre he'd been for so long, and Blaise had been proud of himself and glad to see Draco actually laughing properly for once. 

They finished their dinner and played a game of wizard's chess, Draco winning as always. As they set up the next game, Blaise repairing the destroyed pieces, the blond boy looked troubled for a moment before sighing. 

“I…I need to tell you something before they find it out from Potter…” he said nervously, glancing at his friend. Blaise frowned and sat forward. 

“Ok…go ahead.” He said. Draco glanced at him and took a deep breath, still methodically arranging the chess pieces.

“Crabbe…was there one of the times…the second time, in Hogsmeade. Potter used the Imperious Curse on him…I think when we were in the Three Broomsticks. After we left, he used Crabbe to…to grab me and take my wand and…and then he made Crabbe sit down and…and watch… He took off Imperio and cast Immobulus so Crabbe...saw everything, even if he doesn’t remember it.” He said, looking at his friend. Blaise looked shocked, and angry. 

“That bastard… Wait… he didn’t-…Crabbe didn’t…hurt you too, did he?” he asked, scared. Crabbe was at least double Draco’s size… Draco looked down again, shaking his head. 

“Potter only threatened that… He made me undo Crabbe’s trousers and…touch -…um…” he closed his eyes, his jaw clenched like he’d be sick if he had to speak about it, and Blaise held his hand.

“It’s ok, you don’t need to say it… God, Draco, I’m so sorry… We could have stopped him! We thought Crabbe was acting weird but I never imagined he was-…fuck…” he sighed, hugging Draco. Draco hugged him back, glad one more heavy truth had been lifted from him. He dreaded speaking to the others, especially Crabbe, but he was happy Blaise was staying with him. “That was the night you came back half frozen, right? Crabbe gave you his cloak?” Draco nodded, remembering how wretched he’d felt and Crabbe, completely ignorant of it, had been worried he was cold and gave him his winter cloak to wear over his coat. He’d been grateful to his friend, who didn’t know he knew better, but in so much pain. When they got back to the Common Room, his friends made Draco sit by the fire to warm up, Goyle even broke out the Firewhiskey he’d been saving to help. Even though the chill was the least of his pains, it felt good to be cared for and about. He’d gone to bed that night drunk and numb, and he thanked the creators of Firewhiskey that he didn’t dream a thing. “Did he wipe Crabbe’s memory?” Blaise asked. Draco frowned, trying to remember. 

“I…I assume so, I can’t really remember much of what happened… I didn’t hear him say Obliviate but he may have done…” he said softly, looking at Blaise with his big, storm cloud eyes. “Have…have you heard anything about Potter?” he asked, looking down again. 

“There’s a rumour going round that he’s been put into isolation. No-one’s seen him, and Granger and Weasley only came down for dinner... Dunno what they’ll do with him…” he said with a sigh. Draco looked down at his hands, chewing his lip. 

“I don’t care what they do with him as long as he leaves me alone…” Blaise sighed and nodded, inclined to agree…but Potter feeling a little bit of pain wouldn’t go amiss either… “I hope they don’t get the Ministry involved though…what if there’s a trial and evidence…I’ll have to talk about it…” he said, shaking his head slowly. He couldn’t imagine anything worse, reliving it would be just as bad as it happening again, he was sure. He’d thought about it so much, trying to sleep against the nightmarish memories filling his mind at every moment. He was sure he was addicted to Pomfrey’s sleep tonics by now, being unable to cope without them. 

“I’ll be there for you, if that happens...we'll help you.” Blaise promised, his big brown eyes showing nothing but genuine kindness. Draco smiled weakly and nodded, turning his attention back to the chess board, ready for the next game. Blaise patted his friend’s knee before taking his first move. 

They sat and played chess and chatted about normal things until it was late, oblivious to the horrors Dumbledore and Snape were seeing in the depths of Harry’s memories. 

*

Harry stared at the Pensive in utter horror, watched with increasing panic as Snape carefully extracted several memories from his temple, the innocuous silvery wisps only serving as a horrific reminder of the horrors they contained. Dumbledore was there too, and McGonagall, and he couldn’t think of anything worse, other than the memories themselves, than them seeing what he'd done. He'd begged them not to watch what the swirling silver held, but Dumbledore had only smiled at him in his gentle serene way and told him not to worry. 

He was in such a state of hysteria, however, that Snape had forced a sleep tonic down his throat and his vision of the very office his Monster had committed it’s final assault on Draco Malfoy rippled into darkness. 

Harry woke up in an room he didn’t recognise, lying on a slightly uncomfortable single bed, his glasses sitting on a table beside him. He quickly grabbed them, putting them on as he sat up slowly. He felt the familiar groggy confusion that comes from with sleeping draughts, a dizzy ache in his head and a stiffness in his muscles, but he was used to that by now. He’d been dosing himself with various sleep tonics for weeks now.

The room was lit in various places by candles, some floating, some rooted to the ancient pieces of furniture. Perhaps the dim light was for Harry's benefit, sparing him further headache, but it made it difficult to work out where he was. He could sense he was still in Hogwarts, but without windows he had no clue where. 

He stood up unsteadily, shuffling his way around the bed and into the small amount of floor space. There was a bookcase against one wall, the contents looked dusty and untouched, and an old over-stuffed settee with obvious signs of moth damage. The room itself didn’t smell unpleasant, as the aging interior would suggest, and Harry found this suspicious. He walked over to the bookcase, reaching out and fully expecting his hand to phases through the facade of books. When his knuckles came in contact with the hard leather spines, he grunted and belligerently grabbed one before going over to the sofa to sit down heavily. He knew they were keeping him here go isolate him while they decided what to do about everything. 

He sat, pretending to read the book, incidentally a very dull volume on magical property laws in the 18th century, for a while until a bubble of rage had him lobbing the tome across the room, sending up a cloud of dust where it landed, and he began pacing the room. The carpet was old and not very soft, the walls had ugly green and gold wallpaper that reminded him of Grimmauld Place, but with none of it’s nostalgic, home-like qualities. 

“WHY AM I IN HERE?!” He bellowed at the dark ceiling, wanting to punch something very hard. He wanted to pull every stupid, boring book out of the dusty old bookcase and rip out every page, kick the leather around like a football, set fire to the lumpy fucking furniture and...and... 

He was panting when he realised how much his hand hurt. He looked down and saw his knuckles were bleeding, the skin stinging badly where the lower levels were exposed to the air. “Shit...” He muttered, pulling his jumper to wipe at the blood, but that only hurt more. He didn’t have his wand or anything to wash or heal it, so he sucked on the knuckles, kicking at the coppery taste with slight disgust, but at least it would be clean.   
He went back to the bed and lay down again, wanting to go back to sleep but all his mind would let him see was his future Azkaban cell full of dementors.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was finally let out of the strange room he'd been kept in. He had absolutely no idea how long he was in there for, but it felt like days, though he was only given five meals in all. A toilet had appeared when he needed it, disappeared when he was finished, and there was hot water and a change of clothes when he woke up. 

He was sitting the sofa, actually reading a book about the wizarding world's involvement during the many wars in human history, stopping short of the First World War, indicating it was written before the 20th century. It was difficult to read and rather boring but he needed something to occupy himself with. He couldn’t stop thinking about what the teachers must have seen in the Pensive, every disgusting gut-wrenching horror he had inflicted on Draco, every high pitched laugh that bubbled from Harry's throat as he did them. 

When light suddenly flooded into the room, Harry jumped and stood up in defence, reaching for the wand he did not currently possess. The sunlight was blinding and he had to shield his eyes, trying to see who the shadow looming forwards belonged to. 

“Follow me, please, Harry.” Dumbledore said, his long silver hair glittering in the new light behind him. 

“Professor...” he said, his voice weak from lack of use, not moving towards him. Dumbledore strode over to him, his face finally visible. He was smiling in his gentle way, half-moon spectacles perched on his crooked nose, his presence relaxing Harry as it always did. 

“Come, Harry, I’m sure you’re eager to leave this room.” He said warmly, and Harry let out a breath and nodded. 

They walked out of the room together, Harry quickly noticing the tapestry on the wall opposite. Trolls in tutus, Barnabas the Balmy. He’d been in the Room of Requirement this whole time? 

He walked down the corridor with Dumbledore as if in a daze, discombobulated from being so isolated in one place. It was daylight, hence how bright it had been, but the light was strange, almost greenish beyond the diamond patterned windows. 

“Professor...what time is it?” he asked. 

“About 6 o'clock, I believe. Looks it might be a pleasantly balmy Tuesday.” Dumbledore replied, turning slightly to smile at him as they walked. Harry was confused and a little upset about being locked away, being told nothing. Tuesday? Had he really only been in there for two days? He wanted to know how Draco was, and what was going to happen... He wondered how much the teachers had seen in the Pensive, how much he disgusted them now... Dumbledore was treating him normally enough but the old man had a knack for lying with kindness. 

“Where are we going, sir?” He asked after a few moments, vaguely registering their direction was aimed downstairs. 

“My office, Harry. We wish to speak to you about the situation before sending you back to your dormitory.” He said. Harry frowned.

“You mean...Gryffindor tower? Or the Room of Requirement?” he asked. 

“Gryffindor tower, of course.” He said warmly. “Your friends are very worried, and I think sleeping in your own bed again would be good for you. Routine, Harry...” He said sagely, though Harry very much doubted ‘routine' would help at all. 

They arrived at the familiar gargoyle and went up the winding stairway once the password was said, though Harry had no idea what it actually was. His heart was pounding in his ears so loudly he could barely hear their footsteps on the stone. 

They got to the door to the office and Dumbledore opened it, holding it for Harry to walk in first. The teenager took a deep breath, mildly reassured by the old man’s encouraging smile, and walked inside. 

Snape and McGonagall were sitting either side of Dumbledore’s chair behind his desk, a chair set up facing them on the other side. Harry looked at McGonagall, trying to ascertain how she felt about him now, but she wore her usual stern expression. It was Snape who showed his true feelings, more so than usual. His lip curled in disgust as soon as he saw Harry, but seemed to check himself and looked at Dumbledore instead. 

“Headmaster.” He greeted with a small nod of his head, face grimly neutral. Dumbledore patted Harry’s shoulder and told him to sit down, going round to join his colleagues. Harry obeyed, sitting down stiffly and having trouble deciding where to look. McGonagall was looking pointedly at her notes, Snape was staring at Harry like he were an angry viper about to strike, and Dumbledore just smiled at him. 

“Now then, Harry... I’m sure you will be relieved to know that Mr Malfoy will make a full recovery, given some time.” Dumbledore said. Harry let out the breath he hadn’t realised he'd been holding, one that was threatening to burst his lungs, and nodded. 

“Oh...good, I’m so glad...” he said, eyes stinging. He couldn’t imagine what Draco was going through, both physically and mentally. He must be in so much pain. Snape looked like he might spit acid.

“That’s said, we must discuss your involvement.” Dumbledore continued, and Harry nodded even as he knuckles went white. “We believe…that Voldemort has been using you as a sort of conduit.” Harry looked up, incredulous. Deep down he'd known. Draco had said his eyes were red, and that high, cruel voice… He'd never been face-to-face with it like this, however, and it made him want to rip out his own eyes and scrub himself clean until there was no skin left.

Dumbledore cleared his throat before continuing, bring Harry back from the brink. “When you feel a strong emotion, he takes over at least some of your mind. His influence is what made you do these…things to Draco Malfoy.” Dumbledore said calmly, his expression a little sad. McGonagall wasn’t looking at Harry at all, while Snape was almost sneering at him, hatred in his eyes.

“He’s using me to rape Draco?” Harry asked, horrified. The teachers winced at the word, perhaps because a ‘confession' confirmed exactly poor Draco had been subjected to, and that it was what Harry himself who had been the culprit, even if it wasn’t of his own volition.

“We believe so.” Snape said stiffly. Harry looked at him, seeing no small measure of anger in his eyes. “If the Dark Lord is using you for this, the only thing we can do is prioritise your Occlumency training. Draco has become rather talented at it.” He said, but the gravity of his tone made Harry think that perhaps this was not always the case and it had caused no small amount of harm. Not to mention Draco’s already uncanny skill at repressing everything in his life until he resembles stone. Harry had noticed it when he wasn’t filled with his Monster – Voldemort, which felt even worse to admit –‘s insatiable need to terribly hurt the Malfoy. Draco’s unnatural cool after such an attack, his total lack of emotion even as soon as the next day, like he was nothing more than an empty doll. 

“But…why Draco…? And why through me, surely he can do that stuff with his own body…?” Harry asked. The teachers looked uncomfortable, except Dumbledore. 

“As to that, we can only speculate. It is possible that Voldemort’s new body lacks the correct…equipment to fulfil his sexual needs, perhaps he didn’t believe he’d need to satisfy such desires once he was immortal…” Dumbledore sighed. “There are several reasons why he might target Draco…for one, he could simply find him attractive. His sadistic and vindictive nature, however, leads me to believe he is either targeting Draco Malfoy to punish his father for going against his wishes, or he is taking advantage of your dislike of Draco and your psychic link in order to satiate his violent sexual desires.” He said, blue eyes still calm and gentle as he regarded Harry. “I am just sorry he was able to.” He finished, the sadness back but accompanied by what could have been anger. 

“Yeah…me too…” Harry said, glancing at Snape, who seemed like he wanted to say something nasty, before looking down. The lump in his throat was back, remembering the fear and pain in Draco’s eyes when the Monster forced Harry to hurt him. There was also a small part of him, the part that terrified him the most, that had enjoyed hurting Draco like that…he desperately tried to ignore that part. 

“Now…I have another unpleasant question for you, Harry.” Dumbledore said. “In your memories, Vincent Crabbe was present during the second attack…do you know if you, or Voldemort, Obliviated him from recalling what he witnessed?” he asked, his voice ever so slightly more strained now. Harry felt panic bubble in his chest. 

“Um…I- he…i-it used some spell I don’t know…Surenshia or something…?”

“Pseurentitia?” Snape asked. Harry nodded, wide-eyed. “So it’s a false memory…the real one might still be there…” the Potions Master said to Dumbledore, who nodded. 

“Will…will I be in trouble…legally…?” Harry asked, feeling very small. Dumbledore sighed, looking sad.

“I will ensure you won’t be blamed for this, Harry. It is Voldemort, and Voldemort alone, who is responsible for this. I only ask you continue with your Occlumency lessons and…stay away from Draco Malfoy.” He said the last part with definite pain in his voice, looking away from Harry for the first time. McGonagall was still having trouble meeting his eyes. Harry felt a wave of rage, wanting to shout at them that it wasn’t his fault, to stop making him feel like a rapist, but he forced it down, terrified the Monster would wake up. He wouldn’t put it past Snape to kill him at the moment, if he gave him any opportunity, even in front of Dumbledore. 

“Yes, Professor. I’ll…I’ll be going then…” he said stiffly, slowly rising from his seat. 

“We don’t blame you, Potter…” McGonagall said quickly, finally meeting his eyes. “Just seeing what You-Know-Who did through you was so awful…forgive us.” He understood how they felt, he felt it himself, saw it every time he closed his eyes… He managed a half smile and a curt nod, and left the office. 

He walked back up the 7th floor in a daze, walking through the empty Common Room and up to his dormitory. Everyone else was still asleep. If it was Tuesday they would have lessons. He wondered if he’d be expected to go to any, and then if he wanted to. Maybe routine would be good, getting back to school life sounded like a very welcome dose of normality. He had barely listened to a word in any lesson for weeks, his mind consumed with guilt and self-hatred. He pulled off his jeans and got into bed, deciding to have an hour or so of sleep before the others stirred and bombarded him with questions he couldn’t answer.

He stretched out on his bed, the one he’d slept in since first year, and, for the first time in a long time, relaxed. 

*  
It had been two weeks since Potter returned to normal school society, much to the Slytherins’, those in the know at least, outrage when Blaise woke up to darkness, his head aching from not enough sleep. He sighed and picked up his watch from the bedside table. He strained his eyes to see the slightly flowing face, finding the time to be 2.30 am. He groaned softly and sat up, putting his watch back and picking up his glass of water for a sip. As he drank, he glanced over at Draco's bed, his concern for his friend always heightened at night due to his constant nightmares. To his surprise, however, the bed opposite his own was empty. Blaise put his glass down and got out of his warm bed, padding over the Draco's bed in socked feet. Their dormitory was carpetted but the cold stone beneath always won out. 

The bed itself wasn't in its usual perfectly made self, something Draco did as soon as he got out of it, the sheets rumpled and to one side like he'd gotten out of bed in a hurry.

Blaise swore softly, his worry increasing. Thinking a moment, he looked for Draco's towel but found it missing too. The Prefects' Bathroom, of course... He had been going there a lot since he came back to the dormitory last week, it was quiet there. Blaise pulled on some jeans and a jumper, grabbing his own wand before leaving the dormitory and common room, making his way up to the fifth floor. It was late enough to not worry too much about Filch being around, but the ghosts, and most especially Peeves, would be particularly abundant. 

Blaise made his sneaking way upstairs, avoiding any sounds or slight glow that connoted the presence of a spirit, and finally made it up to his destination, passing Boris the Bewildered's statue, the stone man jumping slightly at his voice when he said the password. The door opened and Blaise went in slowly, suddenly concerned about what he may find beyond. 

He crept in, unsure if he should make an effort to be heard or not, and quickly spotted Draco. He was sitting in the huge tub full of water, looking absolutely tiny in the massive space. His long skinny legs were drawn up to his chest under the water, arms crossed over his knees and head resting on them. Blaise thought maybe he was asleep, so decided to make as much noise as possible to wake him up without actually touching him. He closed the door as loudly as he could without slamming it and cleared his throat, the sounds echoing through the room and over the water. 

Draco jumped and looked up, eyes darting around searching for the cause of the noise, panicked. Blaise stepped forward and the blond boy instantly relaxed, letting out a shuddering breath of relief. 

"Blaise..." he all but sighed, shoulders dropping from their tense altitude. "W-What time is it?" He asked, voice shaky.

"Nearly 3. I woke up and you were gone, I was worried." He said, not coming any closer. Draco looked around, slightly panicked, then sighed a dragged a wet hand through his hair. 

"I fell asleep..." He said softly, then gave a violent shiver. It was then Blaise realised there was no steam rising from the water, and Draco was ridiculously pale, almost blue, his teeth chattering when he opened his mouth. He knelt down at the edge of the bath, the opposite side to Draco, and dipped his fingers into the lightly rippling surface. He pulled his hand back with a hiss.

"Draco, it's freezing, get out!" He cried, making Draco jump. Blaise went around the gaping tub to where Draco's pyjamas and towel were strewn on the floor. He picked up the towel and held it out to Draco, staring at him incredulously. "Please, Draco..." He said, softer. Draco let out a breath and stood up slowly, eyes fixed on Blaise like he expected him to attack. Blaise held his gaze, resisting the very human urge to look at his nakedness. He wrapped Draco in the towel, then helped him up the steps of the huge bath. Then he hugged him, feeling his shivers and the chill of his skin even through his own clothes, and was again reminded of what he knew now to be the second time Draco was raped. 

"Calidumus..." He said, the same spell he'd used then, now casting it on the towel Draco was wrapped in. Instantly, Draco let out a soft sigh, pulling the towel further around himself like a blanket. 

"Thank you..." He said softly. Blaise murmured a feeble ‘you're welcome’ and knelt down to gather Draco's clothes - pyjama trousers, a huge thick jumper and thermal socks. "I-I was so cold...I just wanted to feel warm... The water was so hot it hurt, but it felt so good..." Draco was mumbling softly, staring at the floor. Blaise frowned, holding the trousers open for him to step into, which he did, one hand on Blaise's shoulder for balance. 

"Why stay in until it's cold then?" Blaise asked, forcing anything accusatory or angry out of his voice. Draco sighed, shedding the towel to pull on his jumper, his ribs scarily prominent as he reached up. 

"At.. at least then it was my doing, I had control over it..." He said quietly, sitting down on one of the stone benches lining the wall to pull his socks on. The bottoms of them were dirty, despite Draco owning at least 3 pairs of expensive slippers. The storm-cloud eyes were perpetually downcast, shoulders tensed and high around his neck, like he feared an attack at any moment. 

Then Blaise realised...understood why Draco had looked around so desperately when he heard the door, why just Blaise being visible and solid made him relax. If Potter had used his invisibility cloak everyone knew he had, the attacks were literally out of nowhere, a phantom causing him so much pain. Blaise hugged Draco again tightly when he stood up, surprising the boy but not frightening him. "Blaise?" He asked after a few beats of the silent embrace. Blaise rubbing his bony back.

"It's ok..." was all he could say, all that came to mind in the chaotic whirlpool in his head. Draco let out a soft breath, which could have been a sigh of irritation just as easily as a small release of his burden, of relief. Blaise grabbed Draco's hand with a smile, saying they needed to get back to bed, and they left the bathroom.

Their journey back was less straight forward than Blaise's expedition had been, the Headless Hunt had set up some kind of tournament in the corridor they were heading down so they had to detour a longer way, their hands clasped tightly together the whole time. Draco was panting by the time they finally reached their dormitory, his recent history and current recovery making him easily winded, but otherwise he seemed alright. They crept back into the dormitory, finding everyone else still asleep, and prepared for bed themselves. After a few moments of silence, Blaise looked at Draco. 

"Next time you have a nightmare...get into bed with me. You'll be warm, and we can talk about it...or not, it's up to you. But just know you're...more than welcome." He said with a smile. Draco looked at him, taken aback by the invitation but mostly surprised by how inviting it sounded. Waking up with only his mind to tell him he was safe was awful, always doubting himself in the aftershocks of horrific nightmares that felt so real it made him want to scream even hours later. 

"Thank you, maybe I will..." he said, almost breathing the words as he fought the urge to cry. Blaise beamed at him, glad he wasn't threatening to his damage friend. 

"Good night, Draco." He said gently, getting into bed. Draco paused, heart racing, before almost running across the room and joining his friend in bed. He folded himself up, burying his face in Blaise's warm neck. 

"Good night, Blaise." He said, slightly muffled. Blaise huffed a laugh, hesitantly wrapping an arm around Draco. It was exquisitely warm beside his friend, sharing the green quilt and soft mattress. Running his other hand through Draco's slightly damp hair, his arm beneath his own head, Blaise kissed the soft mop of white blond and settled himself down. He dropped off within minutes, and neither of them dreamed a thing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next day, Blaise woke up the most comfortable he'd felt since he didn't even know when. He was warm and surrounded by softness. He stretched himself, his toes finding the cool parts of the sheet, then became aware of the person lying beside him. He cracked his eyes open blearily, finding the pale, delicate features of Draco before him. It took him a moment to recall the events of the previous night, looking over the peaceful expression on Draco's always so sombre face, then smiled. He'd stayed the whole rest of the night, presumably sleeping through. Carefully, so as not to wake his sleeping friend, Blaise reached for his watch, vaguely reminded of the previous night, and found the hour to be almost 8am. It was Sunday, so they could sleep in if they wanted to, and Blaise couldn't think of anything better than going back to sleep, pulling Draco's warm waist closer as he closed his eyes again. 

Awaking from a doze, Blaise was relieved to see Draco still beside him, still asleep, and the back of his hand had moved to press idly against Blaise's chest, presumably in his sleep. Blaise grinned at the Malfoy, then looked up to see Goyle wearing much the same expression. He was dressed casually in a rugby jersey and jeans, eyebrows raised at the two of them. 

“So, this is happening now, is it?” He asked with a chuckle. Blaise smirked and shrugged. 

“If he's happy for it to happen.” He said, and Goyle grinned. 

“Good answer. It's just gone 10 if you want breakfast, by the way.” He said before leaving. Blaise sighed, breakfast finished at 11 on Sundays. He woke Draco up with reluctance, wanting his friend to get enough sleep just as much as how pleasing he found his sleeping face. The blond looked confused as he blinked himself awake, then he seemed to recall the night's events and looked panicked. 

“Oh...Blaise, I'm s-" but Blaise smiled and rubbed his arm gently. 

“It's ok, you're ok, we're fine.” He said, and Draco took a deep breath and nodded. “Come on, let's get some breakfast.” He said with a smile before sitting up and stretching himself fully. Draco lay there for a moment, processing these things and finding a complete lack of panic...something he hadn't experienced since long before any of this started. He took one more deep breath before getting out of Blaise's bed. 

They got ready in silence, Blaise selecting a designer polo shirt and jeans and Draco changed into a dark navy jumper and black trousers, and making his own bed to perfection, having left it in disarray last night. They left for the Great Hall, feeling very much at ease in each other's company, and Draco even afforded himself a small smile. The tables were laden with eggs, sausage, bacon, baked beans, toast, tomatoes, mushrooms and black pudding when they arrived, and the smell, rather than roiling Draco's stomach as it usually did nowadays, actually made it growl. 

“I'm starving…” he said to Blaise as they took their seats, slightly shocked, and the black boy grinned at him. 

“Well, tuck in then!” He said and Draco laughed, loading his plate like it was Christmas dinner. Pansy arrived a few minutes later, her hair in a bun and wearing leggings and a large jumper, and she gasped when she saw Draco eating and practically ran over. 

“Look at you!” she cried, grinning. He smiled at her, then glanced at Blaise, who grinned back at him. “What happened?” she asked, piling food onto her own plate. 

“We had a little breakthrough last night, I suppose.” Blaise said, Draco smiling at him, their eyes meeting for slightly longer than usual. 

“Amazing! More of those, please.” Pansy said before beginning to eat. They ate and talked, and the world felt good and normal and safe. 

They were just leaving the Great Hall, full of breakfast and making plans to go to the library to do homework, when Draco suddenly froze, Blaise almost walking into him. 

“Draco? What-" he stopped, seeing what had caused this petrification. Not a Basilisk, but something worse. Harry Potter was coming in from outside, frigid air filling the Entrance Hall as he closed the huge oak doors. He was carrying his Firebolt, dressed in Quidditch gear but not the Gryffindor training uniform, and looked dirty and sweaty. Blaise knew better than to touch Draco right now, triggered as he was, so walked in front of him to block his view of Potter. Draco was white as a sheet and looked he might throw up the first proper meal he'd eaten in weeks. 

Even so, he managed to meet Blaise's eyes and keep his gaze. “Library, yeah?” Blaise asked gently, eyebrows raised earnestly, and Draco forced himself to nod. “Ok, let's go.” He said with a smile, trying to keep his tone casual. Pansy had stayed out of it, trusting Blaise to handle things, and instead focussed her energy on trying to kill Potter with her mind. He'd waltzed in, cool as you like, and had hardly even glanced at Draco and his friends.

They got Draco to the library and Blaise helped him get his homework out and found something he could focus on. Despite Potions being a place of bad memories now, the processes were a great comfort for Draco. Analysing and explaining a complicated potion recipe and the context behind it's creation and use was perfect after such an encounter. They stayed in the library for most of the day, sitting in comfy seats and by a crackling fire. Pansy and Blaise got on with their own work, though they both kept an eye on their friend. He seemed better, even speaking up on occasion to join in on whatever they were chatting about, or to tell them something interesting about the potion he was studying. It wasn't good yet, but it was better.

Meanwhile, Harry was being swallowed by guilt. Of course he'd seen Draco's reaction to seeing him, and the look of terror on his face where there would have been a smirk and a rude comment thrown his way, almost in greeting. He'd been grateful to Blaise for handling it so well, getting Draco away, and even Pansy hadn't blown up at him like she'd obviously wanted to. 

He had regretted coming back into the castle immediately. Since he'd been allowed back into student life, he'd used the Marauder’s map to actively avoid Draco and his friends whenever he could. He was convinced Goyle would try to beat him up if they ever crossed paths and he wouldn't put it past Pansy to send a nasty hex his way. Blaise's priority was clearly Draco, and Harry had no wish to make things worse for the Malfoy boy. 

He’d gone out for some flying, out of practice as he was, trying to get back into it and to clear his racing mind. His place as Seeker, not to mention Team Captain, was under speculation, he knew, and Quidditch practice had yet to restart after Christmas. Flying had felt good, right, able to focus his mind on just the wind in his hair, the cold rain stinging his face, and the feeling of weightlessness. He'd been soaring until he suddenly lost concentration, his mind wandering back to all the awful things he'd done under Voldemort's control, how his own arrogance and unwillingness to accept Snape as his teacher to the point of stopping Occlumency classes had made him vulnerable to it. The problems in his mind weren't getting any better, the nightmares and sudden feelings of hate and anger not entirely his own ever present, and yet he refused to swallow his pride and return to Snape. Even if what he did wasn't his fault, why it happened certainly was.

It was too late before he realised he was drifting towards the ground. It wasn't a hard impact, the ground too soft and wet to hurt much, but he did get covered in mud. He'd cried like a child, sitting on the dirt in the rain, then gone inside when he realised how cold he was. 

His Monster had been undulating in his chest the whole time, only to spring up like a delighted puppy as soon as it saw Draco. Harry had immediately averted his eyes, tried to keep his gait natural as he walked past, feeling like his feet were embedded in concrete as he moved. He needed to change this, needed the Monster to leave. He still feared what he'd do to anyone else, but now his thoughts of harm strayed mostly towards himself. 

*

Draco woke up panting and freezing, like every night, and like every night Blaise felt his sudden movement, sensing his distress, and stirred beside him. 

“Hey...” he whispered, eyes barely open and voice thick from sleep, yet he knew to move his hands away. “Another one?” he asked. Draco nodded, trying to get his breath back.

“Y-yes...” he replied, still shivering from the phantom cold. “It was the same.” He added, knowing Blaise's next question. He slid out of the bed, taking his own wand and going over to a washbasin, and cast ‘aquamenti’. He filling the bowl of his palms with the liquid before splashing the water over his face. Blaise watched him, a luminous figure in the dark room. Draco leaned over the basin, his breathing still too fast, his shoulder blades sticking straight up like knives under his pyjama shirt. He cast a strong heating spell over the water and sank his shaking hands into the almost boiling liquid, hot enough to make his skin prickle with pain, but he just wanted to feel warm again. He didn’t notice Blaise get out of bed, jumping when his voice was suddenly close to him. 

“Sorry...” Blaise said gently, his own wand appearing over the basin and he whispered ‘frigida minimus’ when he saw Draco’s hands were pink under the crystal surface. Draco withdrew his hands after a moment, the water feeling too cold again. He dried them on the dark green towel, and looked at Blaise with sad eyes. Blaise smiled sadly back, carefully taking his hand, skin still hot from the water but rapidly cooling, and was glad when Draco didn’t pull away. They went back to Blaise’s bed and Blaise got back in, holding the quilt open for Draco to join him. Draco looked nervously at the inviting space on the mattress, wanting so badly to be comfortable and warm but afraid of the body already there, even though this body had never hurt him. He'd vacated the same space only moments ago, his skin crawling with unspoken horrors, even a single slightest brushing of skin against the boy beside him in the narrow bed made him want to scream, yet he missed Blaise's presence and warmth immediately. 

“I...I'm scared..” He admitted, needing to get it out despite how childish it sounded. It had felt amazing the first time, arms wrapped around him with nothing but gentleness, and yet he was afraid. Blaise nodded and offered his hand, which Draco accepted after a moment's hesitation. His grip was lax at first, then tightened around Blaise's hand like it was an anchor. 

“I know, it’s ok. You can push me off if you want, I don’t mind.” The black boy said with a chuckle, very pleased when a small smile graced Draco's solemn face. He sat down on the bed beside his friend, taking a deep breath, before lying back beside him. Blaise could feel how tense he was, worsening when Blaise himself rolled onto his side to face Draco and gently laid one hand over the younger boy's chest. His heart was racing, his breathing short as if he would start panicking at any moment. 

“S-sorry, I can’t stop-...” Draco tried to say, closing his eyes as tears rolled down his temples. The hand rubbed gently, the constant gentle movement actually serving as a much needed distraction from his racing mind. Blaise waited until his breathing settled before speaking again. 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s ok. It’ll get easier, I promise.” He thought for a moment, before making a decision he never thought he’d need to make. “My, um...my mum was raped.” He said softly. He felt Draco inhale sharply and look at him with wide eyes. 

“W...what...?” he asked breathlessly. Blaise looked at him, his big shiny eyes, and smiled sadly. 

“When I was about 14, it was her husband at the time. She...she got really depressed and didn’t want to do anything, like just being alive was hard enough but...she got through it. I helped her as best I could, it...scared me to see her like that. She started going to a doctor, a muggle one where you just talk - it sounds stupid but she got better, eventually. She still hated him, always will, and so will I. But she got past it, it got a lot better… He’s dead.” He said matter-of-factly. He never went into much detail as to what happened to all his stepfathers, but that was enough to explain it for now. “Obviously don't follow that example.” He said, trying to chuckle but mostly failing. Draco stared at him through the barest of light, his mind blank. 

“Th...Thank you for telling me...” He said finally, moving a hand to hesitantly touch Blaise's arm just above his elbow. Blaise smiled and adjusted his head on the pillow, looking into Draco's eyes.

“You can always talk to me, Draco. I obviously don't want you to kill Potter, and I know you won't... There are much better ways of coping, trust me.” He said sincerely. Draco smiled at him, nodding. 

“Ok.”


	8. Chapter 8

There are good days and bad days. Good days meant he can get out of bed, eat two or three meals without even thinking about chewing and swallowing. Good days let him talk and laugh and think about the future, do his homework and sleep through the night next to Blaise. Bad days stopped all of that. He could hardly open his eyes and stretch his legs without the sensation of true, debilitating dread and fear filling ever fibre of his being. Bad days could even start as good days, then something will happen that sent the good spiralling away like it was being flushed down a toilet, never to be seen again.

Blaise knew when it was a bad day, seemed to be able to see it in his eyes, even if he was pretending it was a good day. He knew when to take Draco out of a situation, when to talk or touch and when to not. Blaise was his rock, his anchor. He didn't know if he loved Blaise, or if he was simply the only person he could stand the sight of. Either way, he was there and always close and warm and never hurt Draco.

One day, they were sitting together in the library, doing their Charm work, when a ruckus attracted their attention. Potter and the other Gryffindors were celebrating, they'd just won the Quidditch game by the sounds of it. Potter had been allowed to stay on as Seeker, and captian, despite those Slytherins in the know fiercely refuting his right to keeping his Chosen One privileges. Draco couldn't stand the thought of going to games now, the crowds and noise and people chanting Potter's name would be more than he could stand, so Blaise stayed with him while the matches were happening. He'd never been interested in Quidditch anyway, and enjoyed the time alone with Draco. They could talk properly in the mostly empty library or Common Room, and sat closer together than they usually could.

Now, the Gryffindor team and their army of groupies were barrelling into the library, cheering and waving flags, obviously on their way up to their Common Room. Blaise cursed them under his breath, muttering 'why do they have to come in here?'. Draco was staring over at them as they laughed and cheered, so much red and gold it was nauseating. He thought he felt his old anti-Gryffindor hatred rather than anything deeper, regarding their stupidity and loudness with a hint of superiority, until he saw Potter.

The fear was instant, making his chest tight and head turn into a spinning mess. Blaise looked at him, seeing he was freaking out, and spoke softly.

“Concentrate on your breathing, ok?” he said, looking at him and only him. “Don't look at him, look at me. Look at me, Draco.” He encouraged, turning slightly to face him. Draco did as he was told, tearing his eyes from Potter's flushed, smiling face, to look at Blaise's soft eyes and dark skin that looked really nice and rich in this lighting. “Good, now think about your breathing. Every breath in, every breath out. Which one is harder?” he asked, expecting an answer.

“In...in is harder…” Draco said in barely a whispered, the inhale shakier. Blaise nodded, pointing to his own nose as he, himself, breathed in through it. Draco copied, watching the way his friend's nostrils seemed to close slightly as he inhaled, then flare as he breathed out through his mouth.

“That's good, keep going.” Blaise said softly.

Across the room, green eyes watched. His smile had been uncomfortable for a little while now, since the adrenaline waned after the match. The others were still high on their victory, but Harry didn't feel their joy the same. His head hurt, his eyes were sore from his frequent sleeplessness nights,  as were his muscles. Flying was his way of coping, training hard, long hours in any weather to be everything he could be, everything he would be. He had a talent, and he clung to it like a broom hovering miles and miles above the ground, the only thing keeping him from plummeting.

Draco and Blaise were sitting together in the library, he'd spotted them immediately, then Draco had seen him and it made his chest tighten. His smile stayed, he was out of breath from running around obnoxiously with his team and the other cheering Gryffindors. Harry faked his continued mirth, encouraging them all to head up to the Common Room for drinks. They all cheered, fully aware of how irritating they were being to the few students in the library didn't care out Quidditch and its subsequent winners, and lumbered out in a cluster of noise and jumping. He gave Draco's panicked face one last look, the grey eyes now fixed on Blaise as he tried to breathe, and the Monster gave a small writhe of...jealousy? Enjoyment? Harry wished Voldemort would fuck off out of his head and let him wallow in peace.

They went up to the seventh floor in a cloud of self-absorbed celebration, passing hundreds of sour-faced students, particularly Ravenclaws, as they went. There was alcohol, smuggled in from Hogsmead most likely, and music and so much noise. Harry drank a lot, more than he usually did, and ended up kissing Ginny. It was a mistake, stupid. They hadn't kissed in weeks, barely spoke, Harry had lived in fear of himself and the Monster inside him, guilt tearing him apart. Ginny had wanted to go upstairs, pulling at his sleeves and giving him her bright smile and wanting eyes. But he pulled away, feeling sick and hateful and _sad_ , making a feeble excuse and escaping out the portrait hole. Bushy brown hair soon followed him.

Hermione found Harry sitting on a window sill down the corridor a ways. She cringed at the smell of whiskey and sick clinging to him, but sat beside him and put her arm around him as he sobbed.

“I don't deserve her, Hermione, I don't deserve anything! What I did to Draco, he's _broken_ \- I did that!!” He wailed, fat tears rolling down his face, hair more of a mess than usual, like he'd been pulling at it. “I ruined his life, and mine and I don't know _why_!” He snarled the last word through clenched teeth, spitting his anger out like it was venom. “I hate what happened so much I want to die, I think about it every second of the day, it's KILLING ME!” He shouted, Hermione tried not to jump. He felt like a child in her arms, young and helpless as he trembled with too many emotions for one person to comprehend. He was a child, they all were. She had had enough of seeing her friend in pain. She grabbed hold of his face with both hands and stood to look into his eyes. There were tears in both pairs, doe brown and despairing green.

“You know why, Harry. You can fight him, you've done it _so_ _many times_. He doesn't own you, your power is no more his than his is yours. He's only in your head because of this...” she touched his scar gently, he winced anyway. It hasn't stopped hurting since that first time in the bathroom with Draco, a maddening ache that could quite easily have made him lose his mind.

“But now he's _there._ I can't get rid of him, he's always in here and I c-can't stop him…!” He sobbed hysterically, holding her arms tightly as he fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs. Hermione hugged his head, her fingers in his hair as he sobbed into her chest, tears running down her own cheeks as she listened to his anguished cries. Harry had been elsewhere for a long time, she knew that, Ron knew it, but they'd hoped he'd come back on his own. When Harry had finally told them exactly what happened, what he'd done, in Dumbledore’s office, the Headmaster present and sad at his desk, they had been horrified but she soon realised she hadn't been particularly surprised.

Harry had moments of true anger, where he would snap and say something cruel. Everyone had their limits and his ever present obsession with Malfoy had been a growing concern from the off, though she’d never entertained the idea of it being fuelled by anything other than suspicion. Learning the unspeakable, awful things Harry had done, even if it was under Voldemort's control, had made her realise that she'd always suspected Harry of having a much darker side than he ever showed outwardly. She wasn't afraid of him, she loved him unconditionally as her very best friend, but she knew his darkness may hurt others, and maybe those others deserved it, but not this, not what he did. No-one deserved that.

“Harry, you know what you need to do. Snape is a good teacher, he can help you block him out. Swallow your bloody pride and learn from him, Harry, please.” her own voice shook, sounding more childish than she'd wanted. He looked at him, face red and eyes puffy from crying and sleep deprivation. Ron mentioned he thought Harry was addicted to Dreamless Sleep, that didn't surprise her either. “I'll go with you, ok? Keep you grounded, so you can learn. Ok? Promise me, Harry.” She said needing him to nod at least, so she knows he listened at all. He did nod, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly.

“Hermione...thanks…” he said softly, still sniffling.  She smiled and hugged him back. Then she had an idea and grinned.

“Come with me.” She said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back along the corridor. She stopped at the Fat Lady, telling Harry to wait there while she said the password and went back in. He stood there, fighting the anger in his belly at being left, she was probably avoiding being with him, sick of his whining and- Red hair appeared through the portrait, not Ginny, thank Merlin, but Ron! He looked worriedly at Harry. He was holding a bottle of Firewhiskey, about a third of it gone, and he was a bit bleary-eyed and swayed slightly on his feet as he stepped through.

“Hey, mate, you alright?” he asked, seeing Harry's tear streaked face, but Hermione grabbed them both by the hand and they practically ran down the corridor. They went all the way down to the Entrance Hall and out into the misty, rainy afternoon where they'd won the match.

“Hermione, where-" she shushed Harry, still leading them out into the grounds. The rain had cleared the students away, leaving the huge expanse of green just for them. Finally, they stopped and, panting and grinning, Hermione tilted her head back and screamed. It ended in a laugh, bending forward, and she looked encouragingly at the boys, who were regarding her like she was mad. Then Harry understood and he laughed, then screwed up his face and let out all the emotion he felt until his throat was ragged. Slightly more inebriated, Ron joined in but in a more jovial way, and soon they were all screaming and yelling, their breath misting like it was physical release of all their stress and frustration and fear. Soon they were all tired and collapsed onto the wet grass, already soaked, and Ron passed the whiskey bottle to Hermione, who drank from it before passing it to Harry. He'd started crying again somewhere during their little screaming session, but he felt much better now, lighter and less like the world was crumbling down on top of him.

“I really needed that…” he said with a laugh, looking at the bottle before passing it on to Ron, leaning his head back and opening his mouth to drink the rain instead. The Monster was undetectable, hiding in its dark place as it felt joy in Harry for the first time since taking up residence inside him. Hermione grinned and so did Ron.

Ginny stood by the window seven floors up, her arms crossed. She'd watched her brother, friend and…whatever Harry was, screaming at the top of their lungs in the rain, and now they were sitting on the floor passing a whiskey bottle around.

“They're absolute nutters…” she said to herself, smiling.


End file.
